


After They Grew Up

by rosieblue



Category: Xiaolin Showdown (Cartoon)
Genre: Biracial Omi, Black Raimundo, Character Death, Gen, after leaving the temple sort of story, and we're getting emotional too, tags may get updated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 20:20:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19837828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosieblue/pseuds/rosieblue
Summary: One day, they all leave. It's not the end, though. It never is.Chapter One: In the end, Omi does find his family. He also finds four last names.





	After They Grew Up

**Author's Note:**

> So, it's been a while. Anyways, here's the story.

Little Omi was the last to leave the nest.

But to know how that came about, we have to go back to the beginning so let's start again by saying little Omi had a very nice childhood.

Sure, it wasn't ideal. He was being raised in a temple and every last one of his caretakers was over fifty-five. He was always sick in the beginning too and it didn't help that he was also small for his age.

One of Master Fung's fellow masters, Master Huang, said it was because the boy was away from his mother. Another, Master Yang, said it will all be worth it, for now he may be small and sickly, but by the time he reaches his full potential, he'll have grown big and strong.

Master Fung agreed with both and so he prayed that Omi would grow healthy and meanwhile, decided to take him in as his own.

Master Fung—Wen Fung, or as in correct Chinese custom, Fung Wen—had never been a father. Even before becoming a monk, he’d never really wanted children. He had nothing against them, in fact, he had been an educator before finding his true path, but he never saw himself as the type.

Now, however, he had to shed all those apprehensions away. This child, this small helpless child, needed a parent. He needed someone to look after him, not just because he was to be one of the future guardians of this world, but because he simply needed a parent. That was what a child needed and so that was what Fung Wen would become for him.

Master Fung started his parenting job by giving the little child a gift. A name, a last name.

So far, Omi had only one name. It was scrawled hastily on that book—the Ancient Guide to Females, which Wen regarded with an eyeroll—the woman brought with her. It was incredibly strange because she showed up out of nowhere with nothing but that book and a heavy pregnancy. She gave birth a night later, speaking to no one, and just as quickly as she appeared, she had gone.

She didn’t leave without leaving a name first and Master Fung thanked her for that. He was terrible with picking names and had never found time to practice.

Omi was a strange name to hear at first; some masters struggled to pronounce it. After a lot of searching, they discovered it was the Yoruba word for water. It was strange because Dojo had sensed the Water Dragon near before their presence completely diminished, but now a child with a name that literally meant water was at their doorstep.

Izumi, the temple cook who had left Japan for reasons she never disclosed and probably never would, had stressed that it was a sign. Master Yang thought so too and before another master could refute, Omi started to cry—no, scream was a better word—and water burst from the kitchen faucet, heavy at first, breaking a little in the middle, imitating Omi’s cries.

No one could interject after that.

But going back to our story, Fung Wen gave Omi his family name. It wasn’t much, but it was all he could give to prove his commitment to this incredible task. Fung knew he should have told someone in the family he had adopted a child, but he thought no one would mind.

He had two brothers and a sister who were too busy to mind. They all had jobs and bills to pay and families to care for that they probably would scoff at his news. He could already hear what his sister would say, so what if he had one kid now, she had three!

So, Fung decided to spare himself every last “who’s more stressed” battle and decided to focus on doing a good job raising a child. With time, he even thought he was getting better at raising Omi.

Sure, the boy had become a bit of perfectionist, but it was hard not to be when that was all the masters would whisper about in his young ears. Fung tried to stop them, he told them it wasn’t healthy for a child to have all that pressure placed upon them, but they ignored him. This wasn’t a regular child, after all, this was a Dragon.

Balancing between being a parent and a mentor was hard, but Fung managed. It was as close to a normal parent-child relationship as possible and it would be if it wasn’t for the rules of the temple.

He was to train Omi, which was the most important of his tasks, and Omi was to know he was his teacher, above all else. He still called him Master Fung and he had never once slipped and called him his father.

It was the best day of Fung Wen’s life when Dojo, who had gone on several long trips after Omi’s arrival to find the other Dragons, decided to give it a rest for now and come back to the temple. He could provide the attached, openly emotional parenting that Omi would need. And so, he did.

Dojo made several changes when he came back. Omi would see the beach at least twice a month in winter and once a week in the summer. He had to try candy and lollipops were preferable—no of course, he wouldn’t share, why is Yang giving him that look—and when he gets old enough, he would go to the school in the village. Dojo had also taken back his mission to fill albums upon albums with Omi’s childhood, something he was sure the kid will appreciate when he gets older.

The 1500 year-old dragon did such an excellent job of being the involved parent that Omi was sometimes embarrassed by him.

He had been the one to take him down to the neighboring village. He was the one who took him to the barbershop before Omi decided to emulate the monks in their shaven heads. He was the one Omi went to when he was nervous and excited about starting school and he’d been the one to comfort the young boy when Omi accepted Master Fung’s request to homeschool him when the other children proved to be cruel.

Dojo had told him then that not all people were like this.

Some people were kind and others were brave and others were strong. Some were funny and wanted him to join in the laughter rather than have him be the butt of the joke. Omi will understand soon enough, but now it was okay to retreat.

Some people also were cruel and grew out of it or cruel and remained that way. He was sorry too, because the kid had to see that. That was a horrible experience.

Omi always thought of that day, because Dojo’s words remained swirling in his head. For most of his young life, he had only known the elderly masters, always walking in pairs or groups, always whispering seriously. He also knew Master Fung and Dojo and Oba Izumi.

He loved them, he truly did with all his heart, but he couldn’t wait until his real life began.

Childhood, as seen by everyone much older, wasn’t serious. It wasn’t an experience. It was preparation for the experience. When his real life began, he would save the world time and again. He would encounter new worlds and other people. There was so much to discover.

Sometimes, he was too excited to even sleep or mediate. Where would his adventures take him and who would he meet? It just seemed so much more thrilling than meditating or practicing sometimes.

Omi’s first adventure, it turned out, was meeting his new teammates. He didn’t know them well enough to call them friends yet.

He had been shocked, of course. Up until an hour before they showed up, he had been the only Dragon, the Chosen One, and being chosen meant you were different. You were special. But if there was more than one person who was chosen, well, what did that mean?

All in all, Omi wasn’t too averse to their presence in the temple. It shook things up and it was new. He had never met anyone like them before.

Before them, he’d never really known a thing about Brazil except that it was in South America and he’d never really interacted with girls like Kimiko—sure, she could be just as mean as the girls who went to his old school, but she treated him differently, amicably.

As for Clay, Omi had only seen white people in magazines and before he met him, it had felt so unrealistic someone would get that red in the sun.

His new teammates came with all these strange new accents and new languages and traditions and trinkets and Omi found it hard not to get curious.

Of course, he’d listened in on their conversations. All the languages they spoke in were intriguing.

Japanese was familiar, obviously. He’d grown up listening to it while watching Oba Izumi prepare meals. It was soothing. While lingering in the kitchen, he’d always listened to the old cook on the phone with a relative or listening to her favorite Japanese radio soap. He didn’t understand the words, but he enjoyed the changing tones of the actors.

Izumi, who’d insisted he call her Oba because she, too, felt responsible for him, was the first he’d think of when thinking of Japanese. He had thought she was the best of women, the kindest and the most caring, because he really hadn’t met others. He thought she could do no wrong, until Kimiko put an end to that by revealing she nearly fought the old woman when she suggested Kimiko dressed and acted a little too forward, especially with the boys from the town.

Portuguese was something different. It was new, and it was unlike anything Omi had ever heard before. There wasn’t any touch of lingering familiarity, like with Japanese. It was totally foreign to him and that made him excited to learn. So, whenever he heard Raimundo get up in the middle of the night—that was the morning in Rio—to call his family. He would follow him, hidden of course, and went over the syllables, mimicking Raimundo in every word. Curling his tongue around that letter or completely erasing the other. Omi didn’t understand anything, so he didn’t consider it eavesdropping and that would be his prepared excuse if his fellow Dragon ever caught him.

English was easy. Omi was bilingual after all and Dojo, driven by a sense that the Dragons would need a common language through his trips, taught him the language even before he enrolled in school. Learning the language was even easier with others of his own age, but after Omi was bullied so much he had to leave school, there was no one else to talk to but Dojo, who was funnier in Mandarin.

Still, he hadn’t lost his grasp on the language and considered himself to be quite excellent actually. He even learned all the metaphors and the popular sayings, slipping up fatally _once_ , which his teammates never let him live down.

But even all of Omi’s knowledge of English hadn’t prepared him for Clay. Clay, who spoke that very easy language in a way that made Omi doubt his knowledge. His tone had a sort of musicality to it, a lilt, and it was always littered with obscure sayings and anecdotes that seemed a different language in entirety.

With time, though, Omi learned and soon got used to his new friends and all their new worlds and quirks. After a while, he’d even grown to appreciate them and their easy friendship. He had hoped they’d grown to appreciate his culture and quirks and language too.

There were rough times, though. At one point in time, the world was nearly wrecked when a teammate walked away, then it was fixed and nearly wrecked again and that cycle never quite finished.

With them, things were better. They had their fights, of course. Kimiko never got along with any of them in the beginning and had, at one point, made a list of all the behaviors they did that she didn’t like. Then it was brought to her attention that she was judgmental.

Raimundo thought they were all too humorless, but they all told him, in the same breath, that he was impolite (Omi), a no-good rascal (Clay), and a dick (Kimiko).

Clay was the only one in their group that tried to avoid conflict and so, ironically, found himself in the middle of a few rows that usually had to do with him giving passive-aggressive advice, which no one, especially Kimiko, appreciated.

And Omi? Well, he learned about privacy and boundaries when he started appreciating them after getting a first boyfriend, but he still got in his fair share of fights.

But after all was said and done, they remained a family. They loved each and they got along half of the time and squabbled during the other half.

They achieved a balance, but of course, after that easy balance was achieved and maintained, things changed again and suddenly they were all leaving as quickly as they’d came.

It was years after they’d first came to the temple, which seemed a whole era away. They’d fought villains of all kinds and species and dimensions together. They saw death and life and joys and pains and Omi thought that was the way it would remain. But the world loved proving him wrong.

That was how Omi came to be the last to leave, simply because everyone else left first.

He couldn’t pinpoint how it started, but it probably started when Raimundo said he wanted to leave for college—not considered, or thought about, but _wanted_ —and Clay agreed, and Kimiko didn’t mind at all.

Raimundo, who Omi was now positive started this whole thing, had said he got good grades, _really_ good grades and that he found a really nice college in Rio. He had a scholarship and that was too good of an opportunity to pass. There weren’t any colleges in China like the one he was talking about. And his brother—Ezequiel, Omi guessed—had an apartment near the college.

It hadn’t surprised anyone, what he said. Anyone who knew Raimundo knew he had a big heart and bigger dreams. Guarding the world wasn’t enough. Leading them wasn’t enough.

He’d always held the desire of participating in the world a little too close to his heart to commit to the Xiaolin cause and that was why no one was surprised.

And when Raimundo shared his intentions, his dreams, Clay shared his and _that_ was the surprise. He wanted to go back to Texas. It wasn’t that he was homesick. Clay used to get homesick in the beginning, before he called the temple home, but now he wanted to leave because there were a few dreams of his own he wanted to pursue.

Of course, he hadn’t said that. What he said was that his brother, Patrick, was leaving Texas for college abroad—smart kid, early scholarship—and that his sister, Jessie, who apparently had a band now, was leaving for the big Los Angeles studios. No one would be left to help Mama and Daddy with the ranch. It was his duty to leave.

But Omi knew what Clay really wanted. He wanted the more, the fantastic, almost the same thing Raimundo wanted, even if on a smaller scale. He was just too embarrassed to say it, so Omi spared him.

Kimiko had then said she was on board. Four was ideal, three was manageable, but two? Two wasn’t good enough to fight the Heylin. She said she enjoyed every minute of this life—okay, most minutes of this life, but everything ended. Maybe it was time this ended too?

She wasn’t happy about leaving, she stressed, and Omi believed her. He could see she was pained by leaving. They all were. But she was going to do it anyway. She was never the one to be held back and she certainly wasn’t going to stay put while the boys left to chase their dreams. This was Kimiko after all. She loved and hated and laughed and loathed the only way she knew how—loudly, making her presence known. And she wanted just as loudly too.

She was the one who missed the “real” world the most. Sure, Raimundo complained, but Kimiko was truly unhappy sometimes.

She missed Tokyo and the tall buildings and the lights and the colors that were too extreme one day and not extreme enough the next. The temple was always in a certain routine, after all.

The temple was also home to one of Kimiko’s most horrifying experiences too, about six months back. It hadn’t exactly faded for her, he could see. No matter how much she swore it had.

Not that Tokyo couldn’t be routine-fixed or didn’t have horrible people and horrible life-changing experiences, but in her eyes, it never did to this extent. So, she would leave, and Omi wouldn’t judge her.

Their leaving meant things would change, though. They would go on and grow and he would be stuck, exactly where he was. It was something that could be envied, which would be understandable. It was also something that could terrify and that was a whole new sensation.

The Dragons decided to share their idea with the masters, who of course, were completely against it. Even Master Monk Guan visited the temple to talk some sense into their heads.

They can’t leave, and they shouldn’t—they still had to protect the world, that was _their_ responsibility. They were Xiaolin Dragons, so they were bound by their word, didn’t they know?

As long as the balance was threatened, they had to be there to even the scales. With them and their magic out of the game, the scales would be in favor of the Heylin and their dark, greedy magic. They had to understand that, the master monk concluded, this was their duty.

Omi tried to hide his relief as he saw the guilty faces his teammates were sporting, but Master Fung chose that moment to speak.

He had sighed, as if knowing this was their last resort and hoped they wouldn't take it.

He wanted them to know, because he wasn't the kind of mentor to keep information from his students, even if for their own benefit. He told them there was way that could grant them their wish and still keep the scales balanced.

He’d said that Xiaolin magic was powerful, which they all promptly said they knew, but he insisted they didn’t know how powerful it was.

Xiaolin magic could remove other kinds of magic, could seal them off, if performed with full concentration and commitment.

It meant that they could remove magic from people and grant magic to others. It meant they could remove magic from the world if they wished. It meant that the Heylin would suffer. Wuya had already been blocked from her magic thanks to Chase Young resorting to that technique, though how he did it alone Master Fung didn’t know, but they could do more.

They were Dragons and united, they could block even Hannibal from his magic, Chase Young too. So long as the elders assisted them and all they needed was to be united in their goal.

That revelation made Omi’s heart sink to his stomach. Taking all magic from the world was extreme. He wouldn’t bare seeing a magicless world, it was against his nature, and besides didn’t the Dragons have magic too? How would this work? The scales would be tipped over to their side, not balanced.

Master Fung thanked him for that question, though his face didn’t show it.

He’d smiled, as if pained, and told them that this was why they called the Sacrifice of Lao Wan, amongst themselves, by the Ultimate Sacrifice. Removing magic from just one person meant you lost some of yours too. And removing all magic from the entire world meant _all_ magic, no exceptions. They would remain Dragons in name alone. 

His three teammates, the ones who were itching to leave, shared a look then that Omi wouldn't forget.

It was the look of defeat and it was odd to witness. His friends never gave up on the things they wanted. They insisted and pleaded and persuaded until they got what they came for, when they thought it was reasonable enough. That's how the temple got a TV in the first place.

They tried to pretend they'd just go back to the regular schedule, business as usual, but Omi knew them, so he knew something was up.

After talking with them, he managed to feel it out. They knew Omi wouldn't be on board—they’d all seen his face—so what was the point of trying?

He, for one, hadn't appreciated the assumption.

Sure, he was committed, but he wasn't above reason. He wouldn't force them to stay in the temple if they didn't wish to stay. Omi loved them too much for that.

So, he went out of his way to surprise them. He went to the elders on his own and told them of the Dragons' decision. He said everyone was on board and he wasn't lying.

He wouldn't stop in the way of his friends' dreams, no matter how much it pained him to be left alone, all alone again, with no one but an ancient dragon, a master, and an old cook for company. Love wasn’t an excuse. He would handle being alone again, he had done it before after all.

After the circle was held and the spell was performed—three days, four nights—they still couldn't believe they had locked magic out of this world. It seemed too easy and it seemed too unrealistic.

Clay tried using his element immediately after, as if he couldn't believe they had done the job good enough and was incredibly surprised when he found the earth unmoving, as if it hadn't heard him.

Then, Omi tried, and Kimiko tried. Raimundo abstained and Omi couldn't blame him.

It was the lousiest of feelings, not using your element. It was like being locked out of your own house. He, for one, was ready to go back in there and reverse the spell, but he knew it was too late. According to the old masters, magic would leave the world for at least four generations before the spell—the final spell, it seemed—would crack. Omi supposed that was more than enough time.

Omi tried not to think about the day they would leave. It was just too scary. He didn't know what he would do when he woke up to see their sleeping mats empty. It was scary to think about that.

Omi was scared and, although he would never admit it, he was also jealous. Sure, he was happy and excited for his friends, dying to know what new worlds they would see and what new things and foods and people they would experience. But he was also a little jealous at not having the opportunity.

Omi was also struggling to cope with their absence.

He had made the mistake of saying that out loud to Clay when he was packing, making the cowboy call an impromptu meeting so they would all tell Omi they would never completely leave.

They'd come back to visit, every holiday, every long weekend. They could manage it; Kimiko's dad had a private jet after all. Didn’t he know? They would never leave, they were family.

That had been incredibly nice of them and all, but Omi knew they wouldn't keep their promises, or if they did, then they wouldn't keep all of them. No one did after all.

He didn't say that out loud; he didn't need another intervention. He knew if he had that opportunity to explore and experience, he mostly wouldn't want to visit the temple. It was too stagnant here.

After they'd left, Omi had nothing better to do.

He'd fallen into a pattern of waking up and training and studying. Occasionally, he took a break to routinely see what villains like Chase Young were up to, which honestly wasn't much with the lack of magic.

The villains seemed fine with that actually, save for the Heylin witch, of course, who cursed them and their existence as magicless heretics. Most were immortal after all so four generations were a much-needed coffee break.

Jack Spicer wasn't immortal though, and neither was Katnappe, but they both seemed to outgrow the whole world domination thing. Omi found that that felt like a kick he'd taken when he had already surrendered. That was too much change.

His friends promised they'd stay in touch, though, and so they did.

They'd come home on winter breaks—which would be summer for Raimundo, but he never stayed an extra day, apparently, he had a job now—and some holidays and long weekends almost obnoxiously consistently in the beginning, never skipping the chance to come home, always with presents.

Sometimes, the time between each visit to visit lagged. Omi would think, that was it, that was when they stopped coming back home, only for them to pop back in right at that second and alleviate all his fears.

But waiting was worth it, for lack of a better cliché, because his friends brought with them all the news of their strange new worlds.

Kimiko was studying a double major, fashion and business, in Paris after an unsuccessful spell at Tokyo. She was more interested in the former, but her father wouldn't let her forego business, disguising his desire for her to take over the family business by saying that business will help her with fashion aspirations. 

Kimiko indulged him, well, because he was paying for her education and in time, cousin Tomoko would leave her adventuring career and go back to her senses and manage the family business herself. She was the oldest, she had to.

Raimundo surprised everyone by pursuing journalism. He said he had a knack for snooping and annoying people until they gave up valuable information, so that helps. He was also somewhat of a professional liar. Nobody doubted that.

They did, however, doubt what he said about maybe making something of his good looks and going into acting. It was realistic for him, sure, but come on, who was he kidding?

Clay was more predictable. He took agricultural engineering and was incredibly good at it, until he switched it up. He decided to do nothing with his degree, opting to open a dojo in town instead.

It shocked everyone, but he said he would still help with the ranch of course—he _wasn't_ an ingrate. All he would do is divide his days between the ranch and the dojo. That's all the difference. And Patrick would come home soon, probably, so he might help out.

The stories they brought with them were about weird professors and odd college mates and the struggles of being completely—well, for the most part, none of them held stable jobs yet—independent.

These stories were obviously for Master Fung’s benefit because as soon as he would get up and leave them alone to catch up, they would switch to tales about hookups and parties and drinking games. Omi was extremely disoriented at first until they told him that was a very normal part of college. Even _Clay_ took part in this and he was the most responsible out of them all.

Sometimes, telling wasn't enough. Sometimes his friends brought back with them physical proofs of their exploits.

Raimundo had more than one tattoo now and sometimes they were hard to count, but according to him, every tattoo had a story, not necessarily a good story, but a story.

Omi was intrigued and a little jealous, but not as jealous as Kimiko who was dying to get tattoos but couldn't because her father didn't want the press to say more than what they were already saying.

She didn't toe the line either, getting tattoos that were extremely hidden that she couldn't brag about them in public, but knew they were there nonetheless.

Clay brought a scar, not one he had had in their training. No, a new one that came in after a wild party in Houston. He tried explaining what happened several times, but every time he got far in the story, someone would ask about something he said, seemingly innocuous enough, but could be taken another way.

Sometimes his friends would bring people too. As the winter breaks and the long weekends passed by, Omi lost count of the new visitors.

Kimiko, ever the exhibitionist, made sure to show off her new girlfriend or boyfriend every time she brought them along.

Clay was quieter about his approach so much so Omi would sometimes think he’d only brought a friend until he’d see them kissing.

And Raimundo? Well, he was just as showy as Kimiko was, but he used the word ‘love’ way too easily, Omi thought. He’d usually shock the guy or girl he’d brought along when the word popped in normal conversation.

Omi found this all to be very interesting. They’d never had much time for dating in the temple. Sure, they were allowed to date, but they didn’t have the time.

Now that they did, it seemed like his friends were making up for lost time in a way that was too rushed, in his opinion. Clay, who was taking things slower than the other two, shared his opinion. In fact, he'd tried telling Raimundo that when Kimiko brought the same date and he didn’t which sparked a very uncomfortable conversation no one wanted to be a part of.

But no matter what Omi thought of their decisions, he always waited for their visits with a certain kind of hunger.

He was incredibly lonely here and even Dojo ran out of stories when you hanged out with him enough. He had no one else who was his age to talk to. Well, he had his boyfriend, Jermaine, but even he seemed to be growing distant. He had been growing distant for some time and with that distance, Omi felt the loneliest he’d ever been. So, he stuck to waiting for the most part, and his wait was rewarded with the visits.

He would always have his friends. Raimundo was there for him, always video-chatting back when Omi texted him what the name of a certain movie or song was. He always called him no matter what the time was or where he was. Clay was always there, with an anecdote or two, and sometimes Omi would talk to Clay’s mother when he wasn’t near his phone and he never minded.

And Kimiko was the closest, simply because she could pop over whenever she wanted, and sometimes her visits were even more frequent than the others’.

When Omi told her Jermaine broke up with him because he got a scholarship to a good school, a hard school, and he really had to focus, and it wasn’t fair to either of them, she was there.

In fact, she had sent him her father’s private jet because he was coming to Paris and he was spending the weekend and he was going to cry and then laugh and get the bad feelings out of his system. Her words, not his.

Time went on for the kids, well, they weren’t kids now, were they?

Clay was done with college, already starting to think about dojo designs and Kimiko and Raimundo were close behind, almost done. Kimiko was closer though; Raimundo had another semester. And Omi? Omi was done with school, finally. Now, as Clay said, the hard part will begin.

He sent applications to lots of colleges. Master Fung, of course, had a favorite in Beijing—only an hour’s flight away, via Dojo—and Dojo preferred that Omi pick on his own. There were a lot of beautiful cities in China, with colleges just as good as he desired.

Omi hadn’t told them he’d applied to one more university. He didn’t because he was sort of positive he wasn’t getting in. It seemed unrealistic. But there it was, in his hands. The acceptance letter.

He’d been out of the room, now his room and his alone, trying to collect himself before he showed the others the letter. They were sifting through the options he had, trying to prove to the other their idea was better.

Oba Izumi preferred Master Fung’s option, as did Kimiko, though she wasn’t particularly happy about agreeing with “that woman”. Raimundo, on video-chat, thought that it was weird no one was considering Hong Kong. It’s amazing there, he insisted, why isn’t anyone picking the university in Hong Kong? He needed to know.

Clay was on Dojo’s side and he honestly thought that was the better option. Let Omi decide for himself, y’all, don’t you think he deserves that? No one answered him. That’s when Omi decided to walk in with the letter.

He walked in with the letter held up high, in front of his face like a shield.

Dojo asked him what it was because it wasn’t in the pile and Clay said it looked American. He didn’t want to assume, but it looked similar to his own college letter. Kimiko scoffed at that. Why would Omi want to go to America? Beijing was right here, and it was ten times better than anything in the U.S.

Clearing his throat, Omi quietly said Clay was right. They didn’t shut up, so he raised his voice and then they listened. Their reactions came immediately.

America, Omi? But that’s so far away. We wouldn’t be able to visit as much. Well, where in America did ya want to go, partner? But Beijing has such a nice program, look, Omi. I guess it’s your choice in the end.

And it was his choice, he agreed, and he told them he wanted to go to New York. Their faces got predictable and Omi mentioned that this was big university and it wasn’t an opportunity he wanted to miss. He sounded like someone he knew, a voice in the back of his head told him, which was ironic.

Eventually, they all agreed, because how could they not? Omi was going away to study. Going to New York and not just for a visit this time. It was his time to meet new worlds.

* * *

New York was different from how he remembered it. He didn’t know how, but it seemed to have gotten bigger and smaller at the same time. It was just as confusing, so there was that comfort.

His college was nice. Kimiko told him as much when she went with him and Master Fung to settle the rest of his things. His dorm room seemed acceptable; he was sharing it with another kid who was yet to show up. Omi wouldn’t have minded having his own room; he’d gotten used to it for the past three years, but having an entire room was more expensive.

He couldn’t sleep the first night he got there.

He felt sick and scared and somehow his brain kept telling him maybe Beijing was the better fit after all. Knowing this was just nerves, coupled with homesickness, Omi brushed it off and willed himself to sleep.

He was successful by the time it was 5 in the morning. He woke up at 7 for registration.

Omi tried branching out in his classes. There was so much he wanted to learn, and he felt college was the place for that, despite his friends’ warnings.

Clay had tried to not get his hopes up. He was a veteran of the American school system and he told Omi it sucked on all levels. There was a lot of reformation to do, really, so Omi shouldn’t expect anything that college advertised.

A little peeved about Clay’s thinking he was still a naïve ten year-old, Omi didn’t tell him he didn’t expect the impossible. He knew a lot about America. No one shut up about America, so it was hard not to.

Omi didn’t expect freshly baked goods at the dinning hall or a clean bathroom at the dorm or a group of friends to hang out with on the campus’s extraordinarily green lawns. And he didn’t want that anyway.

He wasn’t here for learning as much as he was here for adventure. And he got the adventure he wanted.

A lot of Omi’s New York adventures included all-nighters.

It was incredibly weird because there would be nothing going on and nothing to study for weeks on end and then all of a sudden there were six deadlines and two tests, all due next week. It was stressful, and Omi was so strung dry by that stress he’d forgotten to shave his head.

His roommate, a kid named Allan, sophomore when he was a freshman and still a sophomore a year later, told him he looked better that way. It made him look his age and if he wanted, he could give him the number of his barber.

Omi appreciated that comment, but respectfully declined. Allan was white, after all, and Omi knew firsthand from Raimundo that people with Afro-textured hair don’t go to barbers recommended by white people.

Omi took half of Allan’s advice, though, and kept his hair grown out, but looked for a barber on his own. It wasn’t hard. The barber more or less found him because his name—as well as the words, ‘ _get a fucking shapeup_ ’—was shouted at Omi while he was walking to his afternoon classes.

After he went to the barbershop, Omi remembered he’d had a test soon and that he’d had to study, so he went to a coffeeshop and tried to study before giving up after twenty minutes.

He took his phone instead, texted Raimundo that he went to the barbershop, sent a photo with the text in case his friend called him a liar, and waited.

Three seconds later, Omi answered Raimundo’s video-call, lips quirked in arrogance at his friend’s shock, but before he could say anything, the older man started talking in that rapid fire way of his.

He said he was proud of Omi, which said boy found weird until he quickly added that he was proud he finally decided to hide his head shape from the world, but he would never stop calling him Big Head. It was a thing now and you can’t fuck up tradition. Well, you can but this was good tradition.

He also said he knew it! He knew Omi was Black; he just _knew_. Omi didn’t have the guts to tell him he kind of figured that one out around the same time Raimundo did, actually.

Always the one to be proud about his friends’ achievements as if they were his own, his friend proceeded to send the photo on the Dragons’ group-chat.

Omi thought that much exclamation points were unnecessary and rolled his eyes at Kimiko’s reaction, which was a voice message full of incoherent sounds that were all generally positive shock. Even Clay used a horde of emojis to react and he never preferred to use emojis in texting.

Having hair was life-changing and Omi didn’t know why he didn’t grow out his hair until now. Well, he knew, actually. He’d been hoping to be a monk back then. But right now, right here in Brooklyn, he knew life had other plans for him. Because of his grown-out, regularly trimmed hair, perhaps that was why he was a little hard to recognize.

It started with the compliment. It was very innocuous at first. Some other dude noticed him and threw a ‘ _nice ‘fro, man_ ’ his way and then Omi turned to thank him. They were both surprised. It was Jermaine.

Meeting Jermaine in New York should have been expected, a little predictable too, but Omi had been in New York for a year, no, a year and a half now and he’d never ran into him.

It would’ve been so easy to pretend he didn’t know who he was and just turn around and leave that building, but Omi was caught the minute his own eyes widened in recognition.

Jermaine had excellent memory but even he had trouble remembering who this kid with the big afro was. He asked him if they met before and the guy just stammered a sort of deadpan sort of completely serious response and Jermaine instantly remembered him. He was hard to forget. Omi.

Omi tried to ignore the way his heart soared a little when meeting Jermaine again. He pushed that feeling down because he shouldn’t have felt that way about someone who broke his heart. Ghosted him even, as Kimiko would say, when he tried talking to him as friends, just friends. But he was there, and he did anyway.

Jermaine didn’t like the silence, it was too awkward and unnatural between them. He invited him to a coffee and Omi absentmindedly mentioned there was a really great coffeeshop down the block to which Jermaine agreed, only because he didn’t like admitting Omi knew Brooklyn better. Queens was his area.

At the coffeeshop, they talked and tried catching up on three years of missed contact.

Jermaine apologized the minute they sat down with their orders and Omi shrugged it off—he didn’t want to sit in that table by the door _that_ much, come on. No, Jermaine rolled his eyes. He was apologizing for being an idiot, for cutting Omi out of his life. It wasn’t worth it.

The school he went to was tough, that much was true, but they didn’t burry the kids with workload like it was so-kindly advertised.

They waned to be known as an ‘education-first’ facility and got a hard-ass reputation instead. Jermaine was embarrassed to admit that and had planned on calling Omi to apologize but kept postponing it. Days turned into months and, well, here they were.

Omi accepted the apology. He was seething on the inside, of course, as well as feeling pretty smug. He also planned on calling Kimiko to tell her too. But for now, he asked what Jermaine was doing and how his life was.

His life was good. It wasn’t worse or better than most people’s. He was stressed about school and getting a part-time job didn’t alleviate that stress.

He was also studying sound engineering because he felt like he understood it and the other majors weren’t promising. Janine, his sister, called him every day or every two days and he saw his parents on weekends. He was currently looking for an apartment and failing because New York had a skyrocketing rent problem. He had a boyfriend. How was Omi doing?

Omi didn’t know what to say to that because his friend seemed to have a pretty good head on his shoulders and he…wasn’t there yet.

He didn’t have a job, so he told Jermaine he was focusing on his studies. He was taking mostly art classes and he said that without shame. People liked art students. He had made friends here, all his age, and he enjoyed their company—Allan, Krista, Jesus, Nicky, and Mahu. He found this really cool music store and discovered something new every time he went there. Currently, he was obsessed with Public Enemy and Big Daddy Kane.

He was in constant contact with his old friends and old masters and old (extremely old) dragon. Currently, yes, he was single, but he hadn’t found the right person to connect with. He’d been through a couple of horrible dates, but that was that. Omi didn’t really want to talk about any of them, he’d said, but he thought dating through an app wasn’t really for him.

The minute he’d said that last thing, Omi regretted it. He should have backtracked and told him he’d had two boyfriends here—one was Mac, who was awful it turned out, and another was Juan Andre, who didn’t know what he wanted—but he never counted them because they were only seeing each other.

Omi _definitely_ shouldn’t have advertised the fact that he was single, but a part of him felt like mentioning it. No, it didn’t mean anything.

Jermaine then asked how his friends from the temple were doing. Did they all go back to their homes? Did they still meet up?

Nodding, Omi said they tried to meet regularly for winter breaks or any holiday. When they could all make it, of course. All his friends had jobs now and were enjoying—not really enjoying, they were all exhausted—their twenties.

Clay opened a dojo in Dallas. He had his own apartment now, after a months-long fight with his father about moving out, and also a boyfriend. The boyfriend was a veterinary, Omi guessed, and they met on the ranch when he was treating Bessie the Cow.

Kimiko was finding herself, according to her, Omi said. She was, predictably, working for her father and she hated it. It had nothing to do with her major. It was HR work, so it didn’t take up all her energy, but she was biding her time until she found the right time to dip. Her words. She’d moved in with Keiko until Keiko left for Seoul and now she stayed alone.

Raimundo had a job at radio station, Omi said, as an editor, though he planned on sticking around until they let him go on air. Omi was happy for him because now he could finally talk as much as he wanted and get paid for it—two of his favorite things. He also had another surprise about a year or so ago, before he graduated. A baby, Rafael. It was quite shocking, but he got over it eventually.

Jermaine’s eyebrows went up and down with each of Omi’s revelations.

He could see that Clay would have that kind of problem with his father; even he could tell the man was quite hard-headed on one Wu hunt in Texas he took part in. That was weird about Kimiko! She was always so independent, and she never shied from going for what she wanted; why was she still working for her father? Raimundo with a baby was…worrying. He’d always seen the guy as an irresponsible hedonist.

Omi rolled his eyes and explained that yes, Clay’s father was sort of a bastard when it came down to the simplest decisions and it was something he’d complained about for months, Kimiko didn’t have enough money to leave and she was planning on Rachel Green-ing it, and Raimundo was only a tad more responsible than he’d been as a kid, which wasn’t saying much, but at least little Rafinha would have lots of fun stories.

It wasn’t particularly funny, but Jermaine laughed at Omi’s words, saying he had missed his sense of humor. Omi found that odd because no one had ever called him funny. Sure, he’d had his moments but funny was a long way to go.

Seeing the clock, Omi decided he had to go home because he was actually incredibly late and it was Nicky’s birthday. He was responsible for the, uh, pot brownies and he’d managed to bring them after a very weird encounter at the skate shop.

He told Jermaine they needed to keep in touch and then told him the entire story when he asked why he needed to leave.

Pot brownies, Omi? Jermaine was surprised. It was just…this was certainly a change from that tiny bald kid who’d probably never seen a blunt until setting foot in this country. Omi resented that and told him he’d lived with three older teenagers who were constantly coming and going to their homes and bringing things. And two of those brought weed. The third stole some of her father’s _Sake_!

Jermaine couldn’t comprehend what the other man was saying. It was causing an incredible dissonance in his head. Omi then kindly mentioned that, though he’d seen a blunt before, he’d never smoked one until a little before he went to college because someone—tall, Brazilian, kind of a dick—said he’d be like a blank slate when he went to college. That experience soured him on trying anything new until this year.

Jermaine could see that and so he nodded, displaying appropriate reactions as Omi talked about his friends in Brooklyn.

Allan was the only friend he had who was white and they met as roommates. He was from Tennessee and had a heavy accent so there was clearly a pattern there. Krista was a jock and had the tendency to be very overly dramatic—it reminded him of someone, though he didn’t know who and he wasn’t joking, honestly.

Jesus was funny, so funny he was actually doing standup comedy. He and Omi had plans to find an apartment together next semester after summer break. Nicky was studying biology and had a job in retail and was one of the most interesting people Omi had ever met. She had a sunshine-like personality and he enjoyed being around her.

Mahu was cool and though he was kind of distant at first, when he got used to you, he will never stop messaging you memes and jokes and news headlines. He was also Chinese, Chinese-American, and he and Omi were planning to go to China together next summer. No, not to the temple, they were going to Beijing to stay with Mahu’s grandmother. Omi would then leave a month after and go to the temple on his own.

No one here knew about his past. He’d told him he was from China and he told them the name of the village the temple was on the outskirts of. People knew he was an orphan and in all of his tales, the temple was disguised as an orphanage.

It seemed useless to talk about a life that didn’t exist anymore and most likely never would in his lifetime. They’d sealed the magic off, didn’t Jermaine know? Consequently, they’d been sealed off from their elements and their would-be legacies. It came with a sense of loss that never truly left.

Every generation of Dragons was known for something.

Dashi’s generation was known for sealing off one of the most terrible of Heylin witches. The generation after was known for dealing with peace for so long and not knowing how to deal with the disaster that was Hannibal when he came back. Neang Chia’s generation, the generation before theirs, most of whom were in their eighties or early nineties, were known for keeping an almost perfect balance.

What would they be known as? The generation that sealed the magic off and locked themselves out of their powers, hoping to satisfy worldly needs. Or, the generation that gave the world four generations of temporary peace. It killed him to think of this. As a monk, it was a conundrum, an ethical crisis. But Omi wasn’t a monk anymore, was he?

Noticing he was lost in his thoughts, Jermaine dragged Omi out of there by telling him his friends sounded nice. They seemed like a cool bunch and he had to meet them, sometime. So, Omi offhandedly invited him to Nicky’s small party.

She wouldn’t mind, he insisted. Jermaine blanched. He didn’t know her. He didn’t bring a gift. You don’t just go to someone’s doorstep empty-handed!

Omi scoffed at that. Nicky was friendly and wouldn’t mind. Last year, Allan forgot to get her a gift and got her one almost three months later. And this was college, you showed up everywhere empty-handed because you were most likely broke.

Jermaine had nothing to say to that, so they got up and left for the dorms.

At Omi’s dorm, things were hectic.

Somehow word had gotten out about the group’s small six-person party for Nicky and Omi blamed Mahu and his big mouth for it.

Everyone was running around hanging odd decorations left and right because they now wanted to surprise Nicky, apparently, and they were using her going to her advisor as an opportunity. Omi understood; Nicky was well-liked by everyone, so everyone wanted to show her that.

Jermaine was getting increasingly nervous as they heard how many people were in on the party now, though he tried not to show it. Omi knew him so well he could see him trying to hide biting his lips and smiled. It was kind of endearing how he tried to hide his nerves.

He didn’t get to dwell on that much because the next thing he knew Cory Wentworth stopped him in the middle of the hallway.

Omi always called him Cory Wentworth, both in his head and in real conversation, because he would rather die than make Cory think they would become friends. It was nothing personal. Omi just had a personal distaste for everything the guy did—he lived life like it was a college movie from the early 2000’s.

Cory, for all it was worth, was always friendly and always overly familiar. So, he greeted Omi with his favorite starter. Hey, it’s the Fungster, in a voice that always included exclamation points even when it wasn’t loud.

He’d stopped Omi to take his opinion on the gift he’d brought for Nicky. It was special, and he really liked her and Omi was one of her closest friends. Did he think she’d like it?

Noticing Jermaine’s eyes on him, Omi just agreed so he could proceed to his room in peace.

Cory left, satisfied with the answer, and Omi was left to deal with Jermaine’s curiosity, fully unleashed, when they closed the room’s door behind them.

Jermaine was surprised. He didn’t know Fung was Omi’s last name. He’d never thought to ask, sure, but it kinda caught him off-guard. Omi shrugged to that. He couldn’t count it as a real last name. Master Fung just had to fill the papers with something, but yes technically he was part of the family. He’d never met any of his adopted cousins or aunt and uncles, but he never minded.

Omi then tried for a distraction by talking about anything and everything on his mind.

He was majoring in photography. Kimiko was hounding him about attending her engagement to an heir to another major company, Something Taisho. He’d heard of several apartment openings in Brooklyn, was Jermaine interested? He’d hoped Nicky would like his gift as he’d spent a lot of time working on it.

Of all the points he’d offered for conversation, Jermaine was more interested in Kimiko’s engagement and asked about it with understandable interest. Omi babbled on about it, glad to have had that conversation a million other times because now he could go on autopilot.

His mind was somewhere else. His last name.

He’d always had a hang-up about names. He was dying to know what his was because it would lead to a million other discoveries.

Everyone he grew up with had a last name. Master Fung had his name and his name connected him to a place where his family came from. The others had names too and, in their names, Omi discovered a lot.

Raimundo was a Pedrosa and from his stories Omi concluded that name came with a sense of immense pride and a confidence (sometimes overconfidence) of one’s skills.

Kimiko was a Tohomiko, which came with an elegance and a heavy side of arrogance that was always present in how she said her name, even if she didn’t mean to.

Clay was a Bailey and as Omi saw it meant he loved hard work, because it was always rewarding, and being very hard to decipher. Responsibility, too, was their moniker.

Even Dojo had a last name. Omi didn’t mind being Master Fung’s legal son under the government, but he thought he at least deserved to know who he was to be before.

His mother left a first name, but not a second and that stung. It was as if she didn’t want to be found. She didn’t want him to find her.

His attention snapped back to Jermaine, who had called him but was looking at his phone. Something important came up and he had to go home. That was a lie. He would have loved to stay, but he knew how it was. Another lie. He wanted his number, though, so they could keep in touch. That was, surprisingly, a truth.

Omi, bummed but relieved, gave Jermaine his number and promised to send him the number of the guy who told him about the Brooklyn apartments. It was really good seeing Jermaine today, he added. It was nice being with an old _friend_.

Jermaine frowned at that, only for a moment, but Omi noticed. He was sure Raimundo would be proud of this barely-there slight.

* * *

After he graduated college, he knew what his friends said about the real world—the _real_ ‘real world’, they called it—was not an exaggeration. College was hard but life after got harder.

Omi considered himself lucky. He’d gotten a job at an agency just before he graduated, about a month before, so he didn’t have to go into the world face-down.

His old friends had been impressed with how he was putting his life on track, mostly because every single one of them had had some sort of existential crisis before their graduation.

Kimiko told him she was positive she’d spent her last semester almost completely drunk, while Raimundo said he’d had two crises instead of one and ended up dropping out for a semester. Clay had agreed; even he had been so strung up about graduating, he’d called Master Fung every day. But not Omi.

In a shocking twist, it turned out little Omi was the one they needed to worry about the least.

He had a good head on his shoulder. He’d been told that, and he knew it too, ever since he was eight. It made sense to him that he’d try to be one step ahead of everything life tried to throw at him and he was. It was part of what impressed the agency during his interview.

They’d also been impressed with his portfolio, which only fed to his growing ego. He had known he was good, but years of college had put a damper on that by some of his professors’ over-criticisms. The woman who interviewed him was especially enamored, her words, by the way he shot sentimental moments, like weddings or anniversaries or birthdays or that one just-after-giving-birth photoshoot he was asked for.

Omi had shrugged then and said his guardian, Dojo, taught him how to love the camera and it stuck ever since. The lady smiled, and the conversation was over. He was to start next Monday, 10 A.M. sharp.

The real story, however, was that Omi just had a talent.

Dojo did teach him how to take a photo with a polaroid first and a digital camera later on, but the love he got for photography grew on its own.

Something about not having many special moments, like a fifth birthday party or unwrapping a bike your parent got you to ride around, made him excellent at documenting them for others.

(In truth, Master Yang had glared so hard the hairs on the back of Omi’s head rose as did Dojo’s scales, when they asked about the party. As for the bike, the temple was having financial troubles.)

He also had an apartment now, a real one where he had to avoid pissing off the landlord more than he had to with his RA. His roommates were Jesus, accountant by day, struggling comic by night, and another guy called Eric. He was an engineer, or so they thought. He didn’t speak to them much.

Omi was impressed with how fast his life was going and, also how shitty it was currently.

Work was a pain in the ass. Everyone told him so face-to-face or on the phone. Omi had never believed them, mostly because half of these complaints came from Raimundo and his favorite time of the day was whenever sleeping.

Sadly, he discovered his friend was being extremely truthful and it didn’t help that Omi was working in an industry where he had to deal with people.

Now, he’d always thought he was a social person—he always loved making friends and talking to everyone he met, no matter how strange they thought he was. As he got older, though, he discovered one thing. He hated being told what to do and he especially _hated_ birthday party gigs.

The other gigs weren’t much better, if he was being truthful.

When he wasn’t covering parties or weddings or family events, Omi sometimes had the occasional model shoot which most art directors made sure turned into nightmares he would often try to forget through alcohol.

Yes, Omi might have blacked out on more than one occasion when working with that agency. He’d also been informed that most photographers there end up having their stomachs pumped.

Omi loved photography, but the agency seemed intent on making him hate it. Still, he persevered. There was another thing making him miserable, though. 

Everyone made it seem like living in New York was the dream. It’s where dreams were made! All the American sitcoms were set here, and all the characters had amazing lives after just one season of struggle. Omi didn’t get the appeal and also thought TV writers had played the biggest prank on humanity.

New York was too messy and there were lots of rats. Everyone there was someone who had moved there to achieve an impossible dream or a native New Yorker who rolled their eyes at those dreamers. Omi was both, slowly moving from the first kind into the second. That was how he knew he was growing up.

He also had other signs telling him he’d grown up.

Jesus was the same as he’d ever been, but Nicky moved to Tampa and Krista had a baby and Allan disappeared off the face of the earth and Mahu decided to become one of the guys who owned fusion food trucks for the hell of it.

His other friends were there too, always in his life no matter how apart they’d been.

Clay moved to San Antonio. Of course, he’d never leave his beloved Texas, not after all the readapting he’d done, but he had to move away from his dad’s shadow. San Antonio was far enough, and the dojo did just as well there and Richard, his boyfri—husband now, Omi always forgot, had opened his own vet clinic. They considered adopting but were constantly going back and forth on it.

Omi had visited them, too much the neighbors probably thought it was weird, and thought they were the perfect couple.

Omi was especially proud of Kimiko.

She’d finally done it. She quit her father’s company. A few days after his little reunion with Jermaine, she left her fiancé and left with her cousin Koji to São Paulo.

The original plan was for her to shadow her cousin, as he managed the new headquarters for Tohomiko Industries in South America. But because she was Kimiko and because she had a will stronger than anyone he ever met, she found an internship for a known designer and quit the family business.

Raimundo got on the radio, finally. He bragged his show was a hit but couldn’t be bothered giving them subtitles so they could listen to it.

He was also trying to try again for acting. He thought he could manage it, but eventually Omi knew he’d leave that and move on. Omi was also happy to hear—and see, constantly, because it turned out his friend was one of those annoying dads—that Raimundo was getting the hang of being a parent. Rafael was even attached to him now, when he could see him, which was a huge step from the beginning and he was already inheriting things from his father, like calling Omi “Big Head”.

There was also something else. Something that got Omi especially intrigued and also kind of really disgusted and horrified. Kimiko and Raimundo got together.

He was surprised to know about that because he also hadn’t known how long it had been going on. All he knew he was checking one of their social media accounts and saw a video of them at a Christmas party at Raimundo’s family home. Kimiko was there because in Japan it wasn’t an important holiday.

Omi thought it was normal, the same as every year, according to what he saw. Everyone was dressed in white and most were drunk. His friends had kissed on the video because of a mistletoe someone jokingly held, but that kiss was so easy and so natural Omi knew it wasn’t the first time.

So, of course, as a concerned and disgusted friend, he’d called Clay who only said he knew. He felt nauseous too and that was a comfort. Jermaine was weirded out too, he’d said over the phone from Chicago, where he decided to move with Andrew, the boyfriend Omi never met.

Everything was moving too fast. It just was. It felt like the earth was maybe taking this revolving around the sun thing way too seriously.

Days turned into months and those turned into years and years. Suddenly, there were more changes.

The weird engineer, Eric, moved out of the apartment and then Jesus moved out too, but to Arizona. Omi was living roommate-less now, which was freeing but incredibly lonely. He’d also left the agency after building a name for himself and was now a freelancer. It added to the loneliness, when there was no work, but at least he was spared from the screaming birthday parents.

Then, Jermaine moved back in town, single and with a new job but no place to stay. Omi offered him a room and he agreed, and he was now roommates with a friend-ex-stranger-friend-crush.

He caught Jermaine making eyes at him from time to time and it made him feel warmer than usual, but he didn’t dare bring it up. Then, there were certain touches and occasional cute notes and Omi could barely contain his heart.

One time, when Jermaine had a day off and Omi had no work, they stayed up all night talking about whatever came across their minds. New York and life and the way-back-then’s. Somehow, they moved on to talk about boyfriends and Omi mentioned he’d never had luck with that. He’d just recently punched an ex in the nose because he discovered he’d only dated him because he was ‘exotic’.

Jermaine said the man deserved that and after their shared sighs and rolled eyes at typical white shit, he started saying that Omi was not cursed in love, as he put it. He put a hand to his cheek, which got Omi almost cross-eyed as he stared, and told him anyone would be lucky to have him. Then, he noticed Omi’s stares and removed his hand quickly, as if burned by a fire, and the conversation moved on a bit awkwardly after that.

They then started dating, so it got a lot less awkward.

Omi was a little embarrassed about that. Not because he was dating Jermaine, but because he asked him out on Valentine’s Day. In all fairness, he hadn’t thought to check the date and he sort of asked the other man on a whim, after seeing him spare too many glances his way and turn down so many dates for it to be a coincidence.

When he told Kimiko, because she had to be the first to know or she wouldn’t forgive him, her reaction was anything than what he expected. She told him she was completely against it.

Nothing against Jermaine; he was a great person, but she couldn’t help but remember how Omi was when they broke up the first time. It wasn’t responsible. Omi had then snorted and told her that was rich coming from her, considering who _she_ was dating. He also reminded her he was a grown man, just like they were all. Grownups.

Clay and Richard had a baby girl, Amandine, and Omi had a niece now too. Jessie agreed to be a surrogate and it gave Raimundo an excuse to unleash _several_ , several jokes he had, and Clay told him that this was his Christmas present for him for the year. It was refreshing, seeing Clay smile again, proudly rather than sheepishly.

When he’d finally called Omi and told him about the alcoholism, Clay couldn’t take his eyes off the ground. It was sort of inherited, he’d said, because his father had recently quit drinking for the same reasons. He was sorry he hadn’t told him before. The implication that others knew way before was too loud not to hear, but Omi cut him slack for that.

After being kept out of the loop, Omi discovered he had no more energy to be angry again. His friends still thought of him as the naive ten year-old they'd first met, so they hid lots of things even as they all reached adulthood. It pissed him off, naturally, but anger was a long way. He used that last bit of rage to tell of Raimundo for not telling him he was bipolar. It was stupid but he was worried. Sometimes they tended to forget that. 

Omi spent lots of time in Texas nowadays. Well, when he was free anyway. He always visited with a ton of toys for the little rascal, as Clay affectionately dubbed her, and promised himself he would buy her a bike when she turned five. He was also named godfather and that was the first time he’d let anyone see him cry as a grown man.

The second time was when Clay let him hold her. Godfatherhood was also a lot of responsibility to handle and Omi had already thought of all the talks they were going to have, about crushes and first pets and how her fathers were annoying, and he was much cooler, of course.

Kimiko and Raimundo remained together, which confused Omi—and Clay, Jermaine, Kimiko herself, and also probably Raimundo—because he thought it would be something that just happened and ended without anyone recalling it again. It happened on many sitcoms with a longtime group of friends and since Kimiko was famously Rachel Green-ing it, he thought that was the case.

It wasn’t, though, and now the world had to deal with twins that shared both their temperamental, sometimes mean and moody, sometimes hilarious genes. Iolanda—how Yolanda was spelled in Brazil, Yoya for short, after Raimundo’s mother—and Ryo, which was just a name the father thought was cool and the mother didn’t mind because it turned out Kimiko didn’t like much of her male relatives and her father’s name was too old for her liking.

The twin’s impending arrival had pushed his friends to better prepare themselves for the future, which Omi was proud of. Kimiko started saving up more, when she could, and Raimundo went to a therapist and got a diagnosis. He was bipolar, which Omi made sure to tell him was not something to be ashamed of. He knew now and he would deal with it. They’d all be there to deal with it because they were a family.

It seemed like such a long time ago that they were in the temple with powers no one they knew now could even comprehend. It was such a long time ago that they were kids, fighting for the balance of the world, facing horrors they probably shouldn’t have faced. Omi was even starting to forget his powers, what it felt like to have the water bend to his every will, but this time his sadness wasn’t as great as before. 

Added with Krista’s second baby and Mahu’s first, Omi’s phone calls and chats with his friends were now all about kids and parenting. A favorite topic was apparently teething. A close second was breast-feeding. Neither of which he wanted to hear, but no one understood apparently.

Omi, childless and very much enjoying it for now, didn’t want any part of that. It was incredibly awkward because he had no advice to give and wondered why friends kept asking him—maybe he just had one of those faces—and it was dizzying because it meant time was moving even faster.

Everyone was moving apartments or states or countries and getting new jobs and leaving old ones. Everyone was having babies and getting married and getting some unfortunate tattoos laser-removed. Everyone was changing so much and even Dojo, Master Fung said during a phone call that was long due, was turning 1550!

Master Fung was constantly on Omi’s mind nowadays. Omi was his technical son, but technically, he hadn’t been very good at it.

His calls were sometimes sporadic at best and sometimes, he called when Kimiko reminded him to do so.

Sometimes, he didn’t say much when he called and it all felt like a waste of time. It seemed like there was nothing to talk about. His life wasn’t all that exciting, and Master Fung knew more or less all that happened.

Omi tried calling regularly when he could, and asked about Master Fung and Dojo and Oba Izumi, who hadn’t retired despite a broken hip. He asked about them and their lives and their health. It broke his heart to call because he couldn’t bare hearing Oba Izumi that tired or Master Fung so old.

They seemed so frail on the phone and they had gotten grayer on video. Omi wished he could visit, but lately he’d been getting more and more work and it was almost wedding season. He would visit, though, he knew.

They had all planned on a big vacation next summer at the temple.

They would all get a month or so off work and it was easier for Omi and Raimundo because they could just take their work with them.

They would bring the kids too, all the kids—Raimundo got permission from Rafael’s mother—so Master Fung could see them all together. They would call him Yéyé Fung, Omi mused, because he _was_ their grandfather in a way. It would be like the old times, almost. They could even invite Jack Spicer, who’d moved back in town to avoid arrest for fraud in the States, over for ice-cream or tea, whichever was easier. They would have a good time then.

But because life was unpredictable and was oftentimes as sad as it was joyful or even sadder, that vacation never happened.

A few days after Omi’s last call to the temple, Oba Izumi called him screaming, wailing. Master Fung was dead. He passed away in his sleep. He hadn’t been complaining about anything health-wise.

Omi dropped everything he was doing, dropped everything he had, and booked a ticket to China. As did Jermaine, after he learned that Omi, in his rush, forgot to call him.

The others flew in the next day, after placing the kids at the nearest grandparents or relatives. They all came in with shocked faces. No one believed the news. It had to be some sort of mistake.

They embraced each other and Dojo and Oba Izumi, consoling themselves for the loss. They shook hands with Master Fung’s siblings and nieces and nephews. They embraced Omi hardest of all and he knew why. He’d been the closest to him, when they were younger. The same couldn’t be said now.

Before he knew what he was doing, Omi requested to see him one last time before he got cremated. He thought he deserved that and no one denied him. He went into the room, still hoping the old man would get off his mat and greet him.

Master Fung was more still than Omi had ever seen him. He was blue in the face. He looked at peace. He looked content. Omi had never been more ashamed.

He had drifted apart from him. He’d promised he’d call more and visit soon and he did neither. Master Fung was just content with one more call a month, why didn’t he do that?

Omi wasn’t there when he died and even though he was here now, it was still too much to handle. He felt like a child again, small and weeping and left with one name, but this time there would be no wise old man to tell him it was going to be okay. It wasn’t fair.

He went down on his knees, flopping down suddenly. He grabbed Master Fung’s hand, freezing and blue, and placed it on his own forehead.

Tears streaming down his face uncontrollably, he said he was sorry. He was so sorry he hadn’t called more. He hadn’t made more effort to be in touch. He didn’t mean to. He wanted him to know he loved him. It was silly. What kind of son didn’t tell his own father he loved him?

He remained there at Fung Wen’s side, still crying, still scared until Oba Izumi came into the room, worried. At the sight before her, her puffy eyes softened and she hugged the man who was suddenly a little boy again, patting his back.

He was always with them, he would never leave them. He was too stubborn and paranoid about his kids, Oba Izumi insisted. Dojo, who’d slithered into the room and hugged him too, agreed. That was classic Wen.

Omi still didn’t know how that month in China passed, but he knew it was the longest month of his life.

Time was funny like that and it seemed to come to a stop just when he thought it couldn’t get faster.

Omi got to meet his adopted family, finally. It was honestly very weird because there they were meeting the deceased monk uncle’s adopted former Water Dragon/current photographer son. They introduced themselves but Omi couldn’t bring himself to focus and so they remained nameless to him.

The sister, his adopted aunt, hugged him and told him to call anytime he felt like it. The brothers, his adopted uncles, agreed with that statement but didn’t add much. The cousins were teenagers, most of them, and they hadn’t met Master Fung but once or twice, so they remained respectful but aloof.

The family had left after the service because they had a long way to go and Omi thanked them for their presence and their condolences.

When it was three in the morning, Omi couldn’t sleep and went to the kitchen to find his friends chatting over a couple of beers, all but Clay of course.

Kimiko woke up first because she called to check up on the kids. It was a reasonable hour in Rio. Her boyfriend soon joined her, clearly not having slept a wink, then Clay came in and so did Jermaine.

They were sitting around the table drinking and reminiscing about Master Fung.

Raimundo had started it by asking if anyone remembered the time he had taken the temple car for a joyride and had to do everyone’s chores for the next two months. Everyone did and then they shared other memories and it didn’t stop.

Kimiko shared when Master Fung had helped her with her managing her anger and how he didn’t punish her when she called Master Yang an asshole and Clay shared when Master Fung taught him to drive and how he wrote quite a meaningful letter of recommendation for his college application.

Jermaine didn’t know him that much. He’d only interacted with him a handful of times but he’d always treated him with respect and treated him as a comrade, not as a student he was teaching.

All the reminiscing brought back the old memories in full force. Suddenly, they all realized even more loudly that they were getting older. They lived in different countries and although they talked, they were still growing distant, little by little. They agreed that the vacation had to remain a priority. They needed real time together.

The next day, some of that family feeling evaporated. They discovered Master Fung had left a will. A small thing. He’d had no great worldly possessions to give.

He left Clay a desk calendar of wise old sayings because Clay was the only one who had appreciated the craftsmanship. He left Kimiko a watch, which he said meant a lot to him and wanted her to have. He left Omi the medallion he always wore, revealing in a note that it was passed down from his grandfather.

Omi was furious to learn what Master Fung decided to leave Raimundo, though. It wasn’t much, only a letter. And the temple.

Some masters and Oba Izumi and even Dojo thought it was just that pseudo-sibling rivalry between them, long-forgotten, rearing its ugly head. It was more than that. It didn’t make sense to Omi.

What did Raimundo even know about being a monk? He was the first to suggest leaving! He was planning on putting Master Huang in charge of the temple and running it only in name from Rio, Omi heard him. How could Master Fung just give him the temple because he had been their leader once upon a time?

Omi had spent all his life, up until college, in the temple. He was born there, in one of the guest rooms. Raimundo was there for five years. He didn’t know anything about the temple. Not like Omi did. It was home and it had been for a long time.

He knew he shouldn’t be, but Omi was angry with Master Fung. No, furious or betrayed might be better words. He was supposed to focus on the better times, the better memories of the old man, but he couldn’t help it.

The others tried talking to him, talking him down. Jermaine managed to calm him down from screaming to a regular stomp-on-your-throat speaking voice but couldn’t do more.

He refused to talk to Kimiko because he unjustly judged that she would of course take _his_ side and accepted to talk to Clay until he said he should talk it out with Raimundo.

None of them knew, in all their years at the temple, that there was an old shrine there.

Everyone knew where the main shrine was; the new one built after the renovations, but the old one remained a mystery to them. He had been there, staring vacantly at nothing, whispering angrily at everything, hidden from the world.

But then of course, because he ruined things, Raimundo found him and told him he wasn’t leaving until he heard him out. They were too old for this. If Omi wanted the temple, Raimundo really didn’t mind, it was just that traditionally the Dragon Leader was master of the temple. Neang Chia, the previous leader, had been the owner until he died and left the temple to Fung, who now left it to him.

He couldn’t leave Brazil to run the temple. He had a job and kids and a million other responsibilities. If Omi wanted the job, he could take it.

Sighing dejectedly, Omi said that he couldn’t move to China either. It just hurt that this was his home for so long and he wasn’t even considered to keep it. No offense to Raimundo, but he thought this was a position he had a solid grip on. The other man said nothing and handed him instead the letter Master Fung left behind.

He felt like crying seeing the old man’s handwriting again, but he kept it together enough to read the letter. It was a more personal will, he judged. A manual of some sort for the ex-Wind Dragon. In it, Master Fung had written all about how he was proud of him, of all of them, and all the things he wanted them to remember. There were a lot of tips on parenting too, some of them embarrassing, and made Omi’s ears warm.

The last paragraph was the most touching. The last thing Master Fung had written was that he wanted them to take care of Omi. He feared for him—he worried about them all, but worried for Omi more and truly did love him like the child he never had. Technically acquired after some legal work.

He wanted him safe and sound and happy and loved. The temple was his home and his family. No one could ever take that from him. The Dragons were a family too, they shouldn’t forget that.

Omi was sure he was crying, this time without shame, and buried his face in Raimundo’s robes. He missed Master Fung so much. Raimundo agreed, with a voice that sounded oddly like crying, and said he missed him too. They all did.

His friends left after two weeks. That was all they could stay.

Clay couldn’t leave Richard with their daughter alone that much because she could be a hassle. He also missed Amandine too much and all his other kids at the dojo too. He should also check in with the ranch because it has been too long.

The other two had agreed. Raimundo couldn’t take more time off from work and Kimiko had a deadline for a new project. They had also left the terror twins, now four, at Raimundo’s mother’s house and they feared for the woman’s health.

Jermaine left too, work reasons, but not before leaving Omi with a kiss and the promise that everything was fine, and life would get going and missing people was a part, an unfortunate sad part, that they had to deal with.

He’d said goodbye to all his friends and suddenly it was him and the extremely withdrawn Dojo and Oba Izumi again. It was a weird kind of déjà vu, being back. It made Omi realize he missed the temple much more than he thought he did.

He was taking it slow. Walking around the temple, remembering and rediscovering things and memories, his phone shut off. He got a surprise on the tenth day, though.

A week and three days after the others left, a family came to the temple. A man and a woman and a lanky child, tall for his age. There was a tiny kid too, around his friends’ kids’ age, and Omi couldn’t see her at first.

They were familiar, they just looked so familiar, Omi thought, when he went to receive them in the tea room. The woman then hugged him, a tight, bone-crushing hug and he had to ask for an explanation, which Dojo shyly offered.

The dragon said that this was his birth family. He contacted them himself after Master Fung died because now the old man couldn’t do it himself. Before Omi could jump to conclusions, no, they didn’t know where they were. Master Fung searched for them. He had been doing that for the past two years and he’d just found them three months before.

Omi didn’t know what to say. He really didn’t. So, his family started to speak. They started by introducing themselves.

Hui Jinglei and Ade Badejo. She was a high school teacher and he was a biologist. They lived in Shenzhen and they lived a perfectly middle class life. They didn’t know where he was all these years. They searched everywhere.

These were his siblings Jin and Moira. He might notice that all their names were different. They’d decided that Omi would have a Yoruba name, to honor his father's Nigerian Yoruba background, and his brother would get a Chinese name, to honor his mother's Chinese background. As for their sister, they let her passport name her, so they wouldn’t fight over it. She was born in Australia, Jin added bitterly, before mentioning something about koalas and kangaroos.

They got somber really quickly. They were incredibly sorry they didn’t look for him more intensely. They really were. He looked like he had turned out amazingly and they thanked Master Fung deeply for that and yes, Dojo too, of course. They were more than sorry for his loss.

Omi had a hard time focusing because he had a hard time believing his baby sister was as old as his friends’ terror twins and Clay’s little rascal and that consumed all his focus. He soon snapped out of it, noticing they were still speaking.

He told them he forgave them. He knew it couldn’t have been their fault; they would have never let that happen. Should he show them the guest rooms?

Ade and Jinglei—his parents, he realized—shared a look. They had certainly expected more. It was clear they braced themselves for a big fight, speeches already prepared. They accepted his offer, though, and took their bags to their rooms.

As his parents were settling in and resting for the night, Omi was left with his siblings, which honestly scared the shit out of him. He wasn’t good with kids. Talkative kids even less. It wasn’t that long since he was a teenager—at least, that’s how it felt—but he hadn’t been a kid for a long time. He didn’t know what to say.

Jin took the pressure off him. He started by introducing himself as a ten year-old, a full sixteen years younger than Omi, and that he was good at being the Good Kid.

He was certainly feeling suffocated by his parents because Omi had been missing as a child and that made them scared to have kids for a while. He didn’t need to say it, passive aggressive and mature for his age and all, because Omi could tell, though he appreciated the honesty.

He was a good swimmer, but ironically hated swim practice. He really liked 80’s music. He didn’t find anything more noteworthy to say so he just pointed at his sister, their little sister, and said that she picked up on cursing really fast, so he should be extra careful.

Omi nodded and smiled because he found nothing else to say. It was too weird because he’d been an orphan for so long and suddenly he had two parents and two siblings and a whole other adopted family.

It was too much, and Omi didn’t want to deal with that because it seemed like he was now dealing with a bunch of impossible scenarios.

So, your adoptive father-Xiaolin master dies and you are wracked with guilt. So, you meet your entire adoptive family on the day of the funeral. So, your birth family is suddenly unlocked and are playable characters. What do you do?

Omi eventually dealt with it.

He left two weeks after first meeting his birth family, four days after they went back to Shenzhen.

His mother promised to keep in touch and his father agreed to that three times in a row. Jin still hadn’t accepted his Instagram request, though he thought the boy was too young for one, but he was going to keep in touch. Moira let him carry her out of the car and she had never let him do that before.

Omi revealed the news of his birth family to his friends exactly one week after he’d had time to clear his head and was met with a barrage of questions.

How were they like? How the hell did you he not tell them right away? What did they say and how did they find him? Did he have any siblings? What was he gonna do now, especially since he’d done that expensive spit swab for an ancestry website?

Omi told them they were nice people, hardworking people, and he was glad to finally meet them. He couldn’t call them mom and dad, he just couldn’t and probably never would. He had two siblings, Jin and Moira, 10 and 4, yes, the same age as Iolanda, Ryo, and Amandine.

As for what he’d do? Well, he had nothing to do now. He would keep in touch. His father, Ade, said they were going to go to Lagos next month to visit his side of the family and invited him along, but Omi didn’t feel like he should go.

Are you daft, Omi? Don’t see how big of an opportunity that was?! He would meet his whole family, the one he always wanted to know about. He should take the chance, they said, some more kindly than others. Omi eventually agreed.

He didn’t feel good about agreeing on that trip. He was scared and nervous. He told Jermaine that much, but he hadn’t told him he felt guilty. His boyfriend picked up on that pretty quickly though and told him he wasn’t betraying Master Fung’s memory.

Why would he say that? No, really, why would he do that now? Omi was so tired, he couldn’t finish the argument and wisely left the room before he said something worse.

It was a month and some weeks after Fung Wen passed and it still felt like a spit on the grave to laugh or, you know, show the least bit of happiness. How could he just live, while the man wasn’t around anymore? How could he go on and strive and love and eventually forget the pain and move on?

It was true he’d been blessed with another father, another chance, but no one would be the same as the man who’d raised him. Master Fung taught him his first word and held his hand while he wobbled around the temple grounds when he just started walking. He knew that because it was on Dojo’s home videos.

He wanted to talk about it. Omi wasn’t in denial of his problems; he was aware this wasn’t healthy. But he didn’t know who to talk to, so he talked to Kimiko.

It was an accident, really. She had an off day from work and had planned on sleeping in, but the dog stepped on a squeaky toy and Iolanda woke up. Calling him was an accident too. She had mistakenly butt-dialed him.

They talked, though. At first, Kimiko was babbling about anything she thought off and then she started complaining.

Creative blocks were the worst and she still had about seven items to finish designing. Her father was being annoying about them visiting Japan, but she couldn’t do that until New Year’s.

The kids were becoming more and more like _that man_ (Raimundo, who complained to Omi that _her_ kids were honestly too loud. Modern romance, Omi sarcastically thought) and it was pissing her off because he was passing off annoying qualities like being whiny.

Iolanda then came and started babbling off in child-speak to her mother, which Omi was thankful for because he couldn’t tell how much more of that he was going to take. After the kid was done, he found himself saying, no, whispering that he felt like he didn’t deserve this chance.

Why did he think that? He had been curious about his family for years; he deserved that chance. Omi knew that. He knew, and he nodded along, but he couldn’t help feeling like he was indirectly saying Master Fung—and them, of course, and Jermaine and Dojo and Izumi—weren’t enough. They were enough for him. He had a family.

Kimiko tried to advise him, but it was no use, and he still wanted someone to talk to.

Briefly, very briefly, he considered therapy, but quickly backed off. Let’s not open _that_ door.

He would start talking about his childhood and his family and then he’d definitely end up kicked out if the story headed into ‘ancient magical war’ stuff. No, it was better to keep some secrets. He didn’t tell that to anyone because everyone he knew, especially Clay and Raimundo, who both went to therapy, would tell him he needed to go. Even Jermaine would.

Speaking of Jermaine, he was a godsend during that period. He always was—he was Omi’s best friend. But during that period, he was only missing two wings and a halo.

His boyfriend was going out of his way to research Nigeria.

What were the official languages and what were the major religions? How was Lagos during the spring; should he pack a jacket? How many ethnic groups were there? What were the tourist attractions? What major concert was going to be held out during the period Omi would be there and was it worth going?

Jermaine even knocked on one of the neighbors’ door when he found out the family living there was Nigerian and invited them for dinner. It had been the most awkward dinner Omi had ever been a part of and he’d been to a thanksgiving dinner at Clay’s home with every single family member present. He couldn’t even focus on anything the neighbors said because he was too embarrassed.

Omi had planned to yell at him when they left. He planned an entire speech.

You can’t just do that! That was way too obvious, and that woman and her husband were definitely gonna be wary of them! Couldn’t he just have asked him first, at least so he wouldn’t be sucker-punched?

Instead, when the door closed, and the friendly Nigerian family left their apartment, all Omi did was kiss him.

Jermaine had closed the door behind them and turned with a triumphant smile Omi knew too well, because he had one when he fixed the TV when it was broken or when he found out what they were doing wrong with the bill.

He went out of his way for him, every time, and every time he did, Omi was mind-blown. He loved him, he really did.

He told him that then and there, three times in a row. Jermaine Lee, you’re a bastard sometimes, but I can’t imagine my life without you. Jermaine told him he loved him too, four times just to one-up him, and added that he didn’t have to imagine that. He was staying either way.

That was when Omi got the idea. That was when he asked him to marry him.

He didn’t get on one knee. They were too good for a cliché and that was more of a Clay move. He simply just said it. And Jermaine choked. No, he really did and then Omi went to get him a water because it sounded serious.

After he drank and took a deep breath, Jermaine answered Omi that yes, he was okay and of course, _yes_ , a million times yes, he’d marry him. Did he really have to ask?

Omi said it was a technicality, but Jermaine shut him up with a kiss followed by a smile that warned to not ruin this moment by being too smart. They were going to celebrate, he should go get his coat.

* * *

Nigeria was majestic, he soon found out. It was truly too beautiful for words, but he tried to describe it anyway.

Going to Lagos had been an adventure because he’d never met his family in the airport before. Getting out of the airport was even better because apparently every single family was stressed out in the airport—Master Fung incorporated _that_ into his parenting—and the fresh air was better.

Lagos felt right. It just did. It was like going home after a long day at work and locking the door behind you and putting the phone on airplane mode. It was home.

Omi was unused to seeing his family, so he made the mistake of calling Jinglei ‘ _ma’am’_ and knew he was to back off when he got The Glare. Jinglei immediately apologized for that and said it was just parental reflexes and Omi had never been so happy to have someone almost yell at him.

He went with them to the car of a relative, a cousin, who came to pick them up and said that, if it was okay, he was going to wait for a taxi to take him to a hotel.

This time his parents settled for looks and Jin was the one who spoke and asked if Omi was crazy? They were ethnic, they were not going to let him stay in a hotel even if he paid them money.

Omi laughed then and thanked them for their kindness and was hugged by Jinglei, who reminded him they’re his family, stressing the last word. 

At the family home, Omi met his grandmother. She was an elegant woman, despite old age, and was overcome with emotion when she saw him. He was so grown up now. It had been too long and she missed him. She missed him, even though she had never seen him.

Omi didn’t know what to say, but her face, her eyes, somehow seemed to be full of love and apologies and he had to pull it together not to cry.

He also met grandaunts and granduncles and some family friends. He saw his two aunts and one uncle and two of his father’s cousins. Then there were his cousins, their kids, and some of the friends. It was a full house and it was what Omi always dreamed about.

This was exactly it.

He’d always dreamed of a family like this after spending that one and only weekend at Raimundo’s house in Rio. Aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents coming and out of everywhere. Laughter and warmth and funny jokes and jokes that weren’t funny but were laughed at anyway because it came from a really old granduncle.

It was his dream and so Omi meshed in perfectly, if a little shyly at the beginning.

Ade was introducing him to everyone and Jinglei smiled on proudly. This was their son, Omi! Yes, Omi, that Omi, they found him, or rather he found them. Wasn’t it a miracle?

The relatives were absolutely happy and proud and curious about Omi. What did he do? Where did he live? New York? That was far from China—he grew up in China, yes? Did he have a girlfriend? Because Aunt Fatima had a friend who had a single daughter and he was such a nice young man.

Omi had just simply smiled and shook his head. He wasn’t single, there was someone waiting in New York for him. That was another problem he didn’t know how to deal with.

He was gay. He definitely was and he’d double-checked, but no one knew about it here.

Somehow it slipped Omi’s mind to even mention that when he first met his family in China and right now, the worry was eating him up inside. It might not end well.

Sadly, he’d had plenty of references.

Clay’s father pretended to forget the fact for a very long time and Kimiko’s entire family thought it was a phase until she’d been around twenty-two, after which a couple of relatives told her she was becoming a tabloid disaster, so she should tone it down. As for Raimundo’s father, well, he also thought it was phase and also thought he was right because he was with a woman currently. And these were the lucky ones. Others he knew were disowned and kicked out and never talked to again.

Omi hoped he would have better luck than his friends, but he couldn’t find out because it seemed like his tongue stopped working every time he thought to bring it up. He tried clearing his head in the balcony, alone, before discovering Jin was there.

Crazy night, huh, Jin tried starting. The family loved him, he knew they did, and sure, it might be overwhelming at first, but Jin knew he would get used to them soon. Besides this was part one, he _still_ hadn’t met their mother’s family.

Omi nodded and tried to say something, anything, but couldn’t and then Jin shrugged and turned to leave but Omi stopped him. He was gay, he said. How would their parents react?

Jin, a little bit caught off-guard at first, soon reacted with a shrug. So? Cousin Lisa came out last year. Everyone was cool with it.

Omi, a little sucker-punched by the fact but not totally relieved, didn’t know what to say. It might not be a problem, but he still didn’t know how confident he was in talking to his parents. What about the family? Old people were more than a little hard to be accepting, Clay had told him. What would he do?

Instead of trying to find an answer for any of his questions by doing the simplest thing, asking, Omi remained at the balcony, cup of tea in hand, enjoying the weather.

The breeze came out of nowhere. He’d checked the weather map and it wasn’t an expected thing, but hey, he wasn’t complaining. Master Fung had always told him to not fully depend on a weather map because the weather was unpredictable, the climate had a mind of its own.

Omi scoffed at that. He couldn’t believe how many times he and Master Fung had spoken about the weather when they could have spoken about literally anything else. He could have asked him more about himself. Master Fung was a teacher before he became a monk and it always interested Omi, though he never asked. Why didn’t he ask?

What was his apartment like back in his city? How did he prefer to decorate, and did he have anyone? A lover, a fiancé, a wife? Omi knew he never had children, at least, but he never knew how he dealt with the children of others. What kind of uncle was he to his nieces and nephews? Did he ever get a parking ticket?

Recognizing where this was heading, Omi took a minute to breathe and stop. Just stop thinking, stop stressing, and enjoy the breeze. His tea was getting colder, maybe he should focus on that. When Ade joined him in the balcony a few moments later, he told him the same.

What was on his mind, he asked. No one left the house yet, no, these family gatherings lasted until quite late, especially when someone had just landed. Nothing special was going on, Great-Uncle Abiodun was telling his ancient story of how he outsmarted a friend at an old game of chess, did he want to listen to that?

When Omi shook his head, Ade congratulated him on his good choices. Uncle Abiodun apparently told that story seven times a night, just give him any kind of opening. So, what was he so lost in?

Now, the logical thing would be that Omi would try to feel out the situation before anything else. Anyone who took one minute to think before an action would have said this too. But because Omi hadn’t entirely calmed down and his stress levels were rising even more, he hadn’t really planned a graceful answer.

He told his father he was gay. Actually, blurted out was a better word. Is he okay with that? He heard Cousin Lisa came out last year, so was he okay with that or was it only okay for Cousin Lisa? He could leave.

Ade stopped Omi before he said another word. What on earth was he saying? Why did he want to leave, he was family! Of course, they accepted him and they accepted Cousin Lisa, could he calm down? Please, Omi, just take a deep breath and calm down.

Omi did as he was told, and then gradually began breaking into a very nervous laugh. He was just worried, a little worried. He knew people who hadn’t had this conversation go well. Can he blame him? He had the right to be slightly nervous.

His father only gave him a look and Omi closed his eyes. He was definitely getting yelled at now, but he got a surprise instead. His father hugged him. A real hug, a full hug. Master Fung hugged him sometimes, but he didn’t make a habit of it. Temple rules.

Why was he crying? This was such a great moment and he was finally in a big, warm house with a big, warm family of his own, a family he wasn’t visiting. Parents and siblings and aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents all there for him. He wasn’t sad, his heart was finally free of this question. Why was he crying?

Omi assured his father he hadn’t done anything wrong. It was a very nice hug, but he wasn’t used to a father hugging him. He told him it felt nice. He told him about Master Fung.

He told his father all about the temple too. What it was like and how it felt growing up there. He told him about the other masters and Oba Izumi and Dojo. He told him about Kimiko and Clay and Raimundo. He even told him about Jack Spicer. He talked for what felt like hours, finally telling someone the entire story of his life and all his wonderful adventures.

Then, Omi got to another topic. Jermaine.

He casually mentioned it after saying how he was freelancing for the time being, but it didn’t slip by his father’s ears. Why didn’t he bring him? His mother was going to be very angry with him, with them both, he had to know.

Omi just smiled and said cheekily that he forgot, and his father just chuckled and patted his back. He should really finish his tea, it wasn’t going to be good that cold.

Smiling at that, Omi nodded and took a sip of his tea before he suddenly asked a question.

Did Ade ever get a parking ticket?

The rest of the trip was extremely good for Omi.

He only spent a week and three days, because he hadn’t had that much time, but he made the most of it.

During that eventful week, he did a little sightseeing and a little shopping. He thought the Lekki Conservation Center magnificent and that the Tarkwa Bay Beach was just enchanting. He bought Jermaine’s mother a wrap and brought a few trinkets for everyone else.

He finally went to a football game and didn’t really get it, though he knew how to talk the uncle who took him into being impressed. Of course, Uncle, football is at the center of every great nation, he would say, directly lifting it off a friend. He always stopped that quote short, though, before it got to the part about how the English invented it and the Brazilians perfected it.

He got to know more about his family and discovered his Aunt Yvonne also lived in New York, but she was a little far away in Long Island, and there was a cousin Halima in Queens. Ecstatic, Omi paid no mind to the distance and told his relatives he and Jermaine were coming to visit.

And speaking of Jermaine, he now had about 80 more guests for the wedding, so that was something. At least his side of the family wouldn’t have only two full benches, and all his cousins seemed excited to go. Jermaine was a little shocked at the development, but he was happy for him, happy and excited a little scared to meet his future in-laws.

It wasn’t fair and Jermaine always complained. Omi knew his parents like the back of his hand because they’d known each other for a long time, but Omi’s parents only came into the picture and Jermaine was extremely anxious. They could hate him. They could really detest him or think he wasn’t right for Omi! Did he really have to invite them to the temple in the summer?

Omi paid his fiancé no mind and told him he’ll get over it. He nearly crapped his pants the first time he saw Jermaine’s mother, maybe it’s time he knew what that felt like. Also, he’d spoken a lot about him. A lot, so much Jin was making fun of him. They had enough background already and his mother already loved him.

When summer came around, Omi was pleasantly proven right. His parents and Jermaine got on perfectly.

It wasn’t that much of a hassle to go to China this time. Omi took some time off work and since he didn’t exactly have a boss, no one could tell him no. He packed up his equipment, just in case, and had to wait for Jermaine to get an approval on the vacation.

They arrived in China after a really long flight that wasn’t consumed by any devastating thoughts about death this time and the car ride to the temple was quick and easy and Omi felt excited again.

It was ridiculous, but he couldn’t contain his happiness to be back at the temple again.

It was also very weird because after he’d left the temple for college, Omi never had any particular desire to go back. Sure, he missed it sometimes and he visited from time to time, but he hadn’t deeply missed it the way his friends missed their homes at first. It was strange.

He didn’t have any time to dwell on it because he was soon swarmed by Oba Izumi and Dojo and someone else he couldn’t really see.

It’s good having him back, he was really here! They missed him and they hugged him and they weren’t going to let go until Jermaine pried that dragon off and someone told Izumi to let Omi breathe.

The dragon and the old lady hugged Jermaine too and then Izumi, with a smile and a oh-silly-me shrug, introduced the other stranger, a bored thirteen year-old, as her great-niece Satomi. She too was spending the summer.

Omi greeted the young girl and told her to make herself at home and to not worry, this was a temple, yes, but they had Wifi and a tiny TV that didn’t work a lot. Satomi’s smile grew brighter then and Omi had to chuckle to himself. This was too familiar.

By the time Omi and Jermaine set their things in their room—one of the rare rooms with doors—Clay had arrived with Richard and Amandine and was currently going through the hug-and-crush routine. Omi joined in too and then carried little Amandine and didn’t set her down, no matter how much her fathers asked. She was his kid too, shut up, Ricky.

As Jermaine led Clay and Richard to their room, Omi headed to the kitchen with Amandine and all the other interested residents following him in tow. They were having tea, he decided, and he was in the mood for hibiscus.

Satomi helped him with the tea after realizing he didn’t really know where they kept the tea now. Master Lau, a new master who joined the temple a few months ago, rearranged the cabinets and by doing that, had already gotten on Omi’s nerves. Master Fung had been very particular about where everything was in the kitchen and he’d very much drilled it into them.

Omi set the tray on the table and gave Izumi her cup and Dojo his; Satomi had already had coffee. Then, they began to catch up.

Dojo didn’t have anything going on; everything was the same more or less and sometimes he’d go down for an hourlong nap and wake up weeks later. That was one of the troubles with being immortal. Speaking of that, none of other immortals, either side, has popped up in a while. Jack Spicer has, though, been around a couple of times just for a chat and a cup of tea. It was sad, but that was the most exciting part of Dojo’s day when it happened.

By the time Dojo had finished, Clay came in with Jermaine and Richard and went to make tea and coffee for them. He cursed a little, under his breath, when he saw the order had changed and Omi explained it was that new master.

Two days later, around noon, Kimiko and Raimundo arrived at the temple. Their kids announced their coming before they had the chance and Omi noticed they were just as loud as their parents were.

They hugged the newer arrivals and Kimiko hurried to the bathroom because she really needed to pee and traffic was a bitch on the way here. Kids, don’t say that word.

The terror twins and Amandine ran off to play with Dojo flying silently behind them to keep a close eye and Raimundo used that moment of quiet to introduce the quiet kid lagging behind him. This was Rafael, he said to them in English and then said something to him in Portuguese. The young boy, about nine Omi judged, smiled and said hi before sulking off in another direction.

Raimundo explained that the kid was going through a very shy phase right now and neither he, Kimiko, or Rafael’s mother Erica knew what to do because, well, none of them were shy kids. He then proceeded to call them nerds and ask for their help at the same time.

Kimiko came back and then she and her boyfriend dragged their suitcases to their room, lead by Omi.

Raimundo joked that there was a very low chance they’ll get them a mattress now that they have gotten them a door and Omi rolled his eyes. Didn’t he get tired of that request? The temple barely let them get a TV and when they did, it was mainly so they could watch a finale of a contest show Master Huang was also watching.

Hours later, they were back in the kitchen, only the four of them this time, because everybody else was asleep.

They’d called it an early night at around 11 or so and everybody else went to bed, but around 2 in the morning, they were all in the kitchen again.

They couldn’t sleep, so they were having more of Clay’s chocolate cake and he still blushed every time someone congratulated him on being four years sober. It was milestone, they insisted, and they weren’t going to let him forget that.

Omi was giddy, he couldn’t really contain his happiness, his sheer glee that seemed to come out of nowhere. There they were again, the core four back together, talking and laughing like old times.

In a light like that, in that setting, it was almost like time hadn’t passed. Omi could blink and they’d be back at that table in their robes, hurrying with breakfast because of chores or a Wu hunt. Now of course, it was different. Now there were jobs and bills and children and aspirations that were still to be achieved.

Kimiko was doing well. She had gone independent (again) and her label currently had a collection out just for hats! She nicknamed it the Omi collection because the hats were designed with disguising big heads in mind and Omi appreciated that, though he felt insulted. She was doing the best out of them all, he knew.

Raimundo was next and he was still a radio show host and he was enjoying his life. It was the same old, same old, so he was almost thinking of going back to trying to act. But before anyone could give him an exasperated piece of advice, he told them he was thinking about voice acting—dubs and cartoons and the like. He was learning how to enjoy his life as it was, so there was that.

Clay had a dojo and he was very content. He was also very stressed because his father was thinking of finally giving him the ranch and he didn’t know how to feel about that. He loved the ranch, he really did. But it didn’t feel right, not to him. He tried talking to his father about it, tried to tell him Jessie or even Patrick would be more than happy to take over, but he wouldn’t hear it. Clay decided he was going to put his foot down once he got back from China.

Of course, these three also had other stories. Omi found it unfair that whenever he got to a stage, they would get to a different stage and they’d have stories he wouldn’t relate to.

When they were teenagers and he was a kid, they talked about Tv shows and movies and trends he didn’t yet know about. When he’d finally became a teenager, they moved on in their conversations and sometimes did ‘big kid’ things he couldn’t join in

This time the category was children and he felt his soul was going to get sucked out of his body. Again.

Amandine had trouble making friends in preschool. Rafael was going through a phase, in which he really didn’t like people. Iolanda and Ryo were those obnoxiously precocious twins and they loved annoying people.

Omi felt a little exasperated they were discussing their kids, but after a while he thought he might as well listen. Then, the conversation got really uncomfortable really quickly because everyone was asking him if he wanted kids.

That was way too soon to ask. Also, it’s a very private thing to ask. Also, it was kinda rude. They should know better, they really should.

Truth was Omi didn’t know if he wanted kids right now or at all. It would be nice, more than nice, to finally get everyone off his back with that question, but he didn’t feel like answering it now.

He was not ready for that. Diapers and teething and first words and all that jazz sounded a little bit stressful and kind of time-consuming too. He’d rather hear Kimiko mention her fun day in labor than have to try the full parental experience, which was saying something.

So, he told his friends he’d think about it and then managed to divert the conversation and turn it to his family’s coming to join them. He was pretty stressed out about that as well, but it was a better topic to manage.

His friends had mentioned their curiosity about his family more than once. They mentioned it more than ten times, actually, and it was getting annoying. Omi was curious too, about their reactions and how well both his families would mix, but he wasn’t going around marketing that.

The former Dragons, Jermaine, and the other temple residents didn’t have to wait much to satisfy their sudden thirst for knowledge.

Two weeks later, when school was out for the summer in China, the Hui-Badejo family flew in from Shenzhen and joined them at the temple.

They said their hellos in the open grounds, Omi being the most enthusiastic, of course, and then proceeded to lead the family to their room. There, they faced a conundrum. There wasn’t enough space.

Jinglei didn’t mean to be a bother. She knew she was a guest, but it would be tremendously hard to keep two grown adults, a ten-almost-eleven year-old, and a hyperactive child all in the same room. Again, she insisted she could manage if it came down to it, but could they maybe have another room for the kids?

Jermaine used that moment of silence to come up with a genius plan. Just let the kids share! The old Dragons’ room was still around and they would just have to set a few bunks up. It was right by Oba Izumi’s room and it had no doors, so supervision was none the easier. So, how about that?

Having been quiet the entire time until that moment, Jin spoke up to protest. No, thank you, thank you a lot, but he’d rather share a room with his parents than a bunch of kids. One five year-old he could handle, but five? No chance in hell!

That got them into another argument and Omi was half torn between telling them to pipe down and being happy because barely an hour had passed, and they were already getting along like a family.

Raimundo said that actually Rafael was nine and Jin said that didn’t change a thing, but before another argument could start Satomi walked into the room.

Jin shut up then, eyes seemingly turning into hearts, and Jermaine slyly used the opportunity to tell Satomi all the kids were bunking together in the Dragons’ old room. She nodded, checked her phone for a text, then went to pack her bags. Mysteriously, Jin agreed to the bunking-with-babies idea after she left, but no one brought it up for now.

Weeks went by and life at the Xiaolin temple had never been more normal.

The old masters, reclusive as ever, still didn’t interact with them much—though they did approach Raimundo once or twice about the electric bill—and Oba Izumi insisted she cook the meals and felt severely insulted when they got takeout. Dojo was always with the kids, always telling old embarrassing stories.

Speaking of old embarrassing stories, Omi soon discovered that his teammates were putting a spin on a classic. Since his parents had no embarrassing photos or stories to tell of Omi’s childhood, they took it upon themselves to tell the stories and show the photos themselves.

Clay started by Omi’s ridiculously limited wardrobe and the way he was easily impressed and, honestly, way too gullible. Kimiko talked about how awkward he was and the one time he decided to cook soup and managed to screw that up so horribly everybody got food poisoning. Raimundo, having found his calling, was especially difficult to shut up since he didn’t know what a limit was if it hit him.

Even Jermaine joined in. He told them of how Omi sometimes forgot basic things like paying the rent when he had a job and that two week period he decided, full conviction, to go on a ridiculous fluid-based cleanse. He told them how he didn’t last three days in a row.

Jermaine’s funniest story was how he and his dad and sister spent about four hours trying to explain baseball to Omi who just wasn’t getting it. Omi called it a stupid sport then and repeated it again now—everybody knows watching paint dry was more fun!

But other than sharing funny stories and photos and videos—oh my God, Clay, you kept _that_ —his first family and his biological one were getting more acquainted.

The kids were just off doing whatever and that whatever usually consisted of the twins, Moira, and Amandine playing around, Jin trying to impress Satomi by acting older than his age, and Satomi not noticing Jin and hanging around with little Rafael playing card games.

With the adults, Omi noticed that things were kind of awkward.

It was a delicate territory to deal with. These were Omi’s biological parents and these were his friends who he’d known ever since he was about ten, so they were practically there for his entire life, and both didn’t know how to deal with the other.

Jinglei was surprised when Kimiko stopped her at the last second from sharing a cake with Omi because that cake had strawberries in it and Omi was allergic.

She was definitely caught off-guard, Omi thought, because she’d then made a list and made Omi tell her if he was allergic to anything else. Jinglei appreciated the efforts everyone else made to make her know more about Omi, but she seemed sad and a little envious they all knew him much more than she could ever hope to.

His mother didn’t have any favorites among his friends, but his dad was another story. Ade Badejo didn’t shy from how he clearly preferred Kimiko and Jermaine over the other two. He didn’t try to make a show of it, but he was clearly much happier when talking to those two than the rest.

Omi asked Jin casually if their dad didn’t like all his friends and Jin immediately, and very nonchalantly, mentioned that their father didn’t like Clay because he didn’t think anyone was that nice, it was simply unnatural. As for Raimundo, well, their father branded him a ‘bad influence type of character’ about five hours after meeting him.

Scoffing at first at how disliking Raimundo from first impression was apparently an inherited trait, Omi quickly got exasperated. He was about to begin a plan because his father had to like his friends. They were more than his friends; they were his brothers and if his father didn’t like them…Omi didn’t prefer to continue that trail of thought.

He didn’t get far with his planning, which so far only included somehow getting Clay to talk about animals because that was a subject the cowboy and his biologist father could babble about forever.

After he meticulously orchestrated the first part and managed to get his father and Clay to talk, Omi was told by Jin to watch him ‘ _kill this_ ’ and walked over to Ade and Raimundo who were standing close to each other, watching the kids, each pretending the other wasn’t there. He said one word, actually five words—Arsenal signed a new player—and left the two men talking about football and the Premier League.

Omi was incredibly impressed and Jin shrugged it off at first, but Omi could see his little brother—he was never getting used to that—was proud of the compliment.

Jin was the only member of the Hui-Badejo family who wasn’t awkward around anyone else.

No one and nothing said could make him feel like he had to shut up or be less annoying. He was an extrovert to the core, Omi envied that a little, but he judged it had to be because the kid was an only child for about six years or so. Almost as long as Omi was an only child, in the temple.

It was a little startling, but through conversations, Omi learned Jin was born around the same time the other Dragons left the temple. It was incomprehensible to him that while he was struggling to accept that maybe his family wouldn’t be found, his family was actually doing pretty great.

Omi was starting to be glad he didn’t find them when he was a teenager because he was going through a rough time as was and seeing his parents with a replacement-baby would have been a cherry on top. So now, at twenty-six-going-twenty-seven, Omi appreciated finding them and learned how to enjoy the new awkwardness.

He was enjoying how much his parents adored him and how much they wanted to know about him and all their questions.

Was he a good student? A math kid or a foreign languages kid? Did he play sports? Oh, he was home-schooled! Well, how did that feel like? Were there any other kids at the temple getting schooled with him? You were all there? How was his sense of humor—his aunt Li-Zhen was famous for a biting, deadpan sense of humor, did he get that? Was he a morning person like his dad?

Jin was unlike his parents. He didn’t care at all for the background questions—even if they grew up together, he would have been a baby or a toddler for most of Omi’s teenage years. He was more interested in the now; he’d learn about his brother that way and besides, adults always liked talking about the good old days, so Omi was bound to mention something.

Omi resented that statement because he felt ancient, but he was familiar with how some kids were rude. He grew up with rude kids and their remarks about Master Fung being completely out of the loop, so he understood.

As time went on and the summer drew to a close, Omi found himself getting sad over the idea of this family going their separate ways. It was the best he’d felt in years.

His whole family was together, save for one Master Fung, and he felt like he understood why his friends couldn’t wait to leave for family occasions back when they were in training.

He would miss this. He would miss having people to call Mama and Baba around, even if it felt awkward, and he would miss hanging around with his little siblings, watching them do their own thing because he was too old to join in unless the were playing with Legos.

He would miss seeing Clay arguing with that new Master Lau about the screwed up cabinet orders or that new method they were using for the vegetable garden outback. He would miss seeing Amandine try to imitate the words her father, the cowboy, used and he would miss Iolanda and Ryo and their childish pranks.

Most of all, he would miss his friends. They hadn’t been together in years. Sure, they sometimes visited each other but the band was never completely back together. Someone always had a situation at work or a family emergency and couldn’t show up, but now they were all together and it was as easy as when they were kids.

Omi found himself at the hidden, old shrine thinking about that and he also found himself tearing up. He didn’t want to go back to New York. He also didn’t want to stay in the temple.

He found it difficult to figure out what was it exactly that he wanted until he discovered he just wanted to stay in the state of being, with all his family surrounding him. But they were everywhere and they were about to be scattered across Shenzhen and New York and Texas and Rio De Janeiro.

He would go back to same old-same old Brooklyn and go back to his job and Jermaine would go back to his. They’d be together, of course, and they’d go on dates and visits to Jermaine’s parents and his sister and sometimes the family would visit them.

They’d see Clay on their visits to San Antonio and his rarer visits to New York because he thought it was too loud. They’d hear from Kimiko and Raimundo only on video-calls that would get more and more sporadic with time because they wouldn’t have anything to say.

It killed Omi to think of that possibility and now it was the closest, the realest thing that could happen. He felt like he was fifteen again and they were all leaving for college. Master Fung had said something to him then, but he just couldn’t remember it now.

What did he say? His voice was so calm and soothing then and it was one of the rare moments when they’d hugged. What had he said again? It put Omi at so much ease and it got him to stop sniffling. If only he could remember.

While he was remembering, Jermaine found him and told him it was time for dinner. It was the last dinner for Omi’s parents and siblings, who were off to Shenzhen in the morning because school was starting next week. He had to be there, no matter how much he’d like to crawl up under his covers.

You know, when he was younger, all he’d ever wanted to do was leave the temple. Did Jermaine know that? He knew he was going to have wonderful adventures and meet interesting people and have weird experiences. There was an entire world out there that he’d been dying to explore.

Now that Omi had actually went out and saw the world, it was getting kind of old for him.

He had gone out and fought witches and insufferable geniuses and hired henchmen and were-dragon warlords. He traveled the world, for a few hours per each Shen Gon Wu, and then moved across the globe to start a new life as a young adult. He had met new people and tried new, weird food and learned a lot, whether he meant to or not.

He had been in a couple of casual relationships and then got back together with his very first boyfriend, like a fucking cliché, he added. He broke up with one guy because he called him exotic and then immediately punched him in the face. He was doing something he loved and he was getting paid for it. But all he wanted at this very moment was to stay at the temple, stay back in the good old days—another cliché that he wasn’t upset with.

Jermaine waited until Omi was done and then offered him a tissue because he had sniffled a little. He walked over to Omi and gave him a very long hug, a minute-long hug, and then said one thing. They all have to grow up sometime. It was horrible, but it was true.

He said that and shut up because he didn’t know what else to say. To be honest, he wasn’t quite convinced he said enough to put Omi at ease. In his eyes, Omi had a point. He too would love nothing more than to go back to being a kid and playing basketball with his friends for hours, only going home because his mom was yelling at him to do homework or have dinner _now_.

Jermaine was lost in thought about his favorite basketball court until Omi’s words brought him back to reality. He was fine now, they should go have dinner or they wouldn’t be spared from Jin’s mocking and winking. That kid was hanging out with Raimundo too much.

When they returned to the kitchen and finally finished going through five of Jin’s rapid fire learned jokes, they sat down for the last dinner.

Everything was going smoothly. Raimundo had asked Jinglei if she finally was going to teach year twelve this year, like she’d hoped, and she said she got an approval. She’d much rather have seniors than younger kids, who were still figuring themselves out and consequently sometimes being assholes. Richard then asked her how different it had been teaching high-schoolers and middle school kids and that became a conversation of its own.

Ade was talking to Clay about a new animal species they were studying, and they were both using a bunch words Omi thought were made-up. The cowboy was especially interested, bringing on articles he’d read online as points for discussion too.

On the other end of the table, Kimiko was having yet another one of her arguments with Oba Izumi—her fifth, just today—and Satomi was watching in intrigue, while finally lending her ear to Jin every now then when he had new joke to share.

The kids, save for Jin and Satomi, had their own tiny table and Omi heard a mixture of Mandarin, Portuguese, some Japanese, and Texan-accented Spanish. He didn’t know what the hell was going on down there, but it sounded like an interesting conversation.

Ade suddenly got up, not to leave the table, but to make a toast. He had a beer in hand, as did all the others, save for Clay and the kids, who were content with juice. He began talking after he had everyone’s attention.

He began by saying he was glad he had this opportunity, the chance to be here with all of his kids in one place. Omi didn’t have to do that. He didn’t and Ade would have understood. But Omi invited them and he did it like it was the easiest thing in the world.

He also said he was proud of him. He was proud of who his little boy had become and he’d become a good man, a kind man, and that was the best thing a father could ask for. He was sorry he hadn’t found him. They searched for many years and then they got tired and searched again and just after all hope was lost a man called Fung Wen contacted them.

It was the one phone call he was glad to receive because twenty-six years before that he’d gotten a similar call from his wife, saying she was stranded in the middle of nowhere and she had lost their son. She didn’t know where he was and that was the beginning of another long journey of patience.

He would like to dedicate this toast to Master Fung, may he rest in peace. He hadn’t met the man once, but he owed him a great deal of respect and admiration. He took Omi in and raised him to be this man he saw today.

They all drank to that and Omi took the tissue Jermaine silently offered. He took a moment to steady his breath as his mother and Izumi went to get dessert, then stood up. He had a little announcement.

Jermaine and he wanted a destination wedding, an announcement that surprised Jermaine himself, though he quickly hid his shock. The destination was going to be China, precisely here at the temple. He was unsure if the masters would agree to host about a-hundred and fifty (or, with the way things were going, two-hundred) people, but he supposed there could be an exception.

It took about five minutes for the news to settle in but when it did, everybody was cheering and congratulating and hugging. It was going to be the best wedding anyone has ever been to, Kimiko had stressed, and Omi knew she was making that a reality.

The conversation strayed into planning wedding details. It wasn’t too early, in fact, there might not be enough time. Clay agreed with Raimundo; weddings seemed simple enough at first, but come on, Omi, nothing’s ever that simple.

He used the opportunity to exit the kitchen with a cup of tea and stand in silence, looking at nothing but the open grounds and the road in front of the temple, raising an eyebrow whenever a car passed through.

He was home, he was finally back home and his ever-growing family was there too, arguing in the kitchen like they used to. He could almost hear Master Fung laughing quietly at the kids arguing again and he smiled a little himself.

Omi was growing up. No, scratch that, he had grown up and things were going to get difficult and predictable and exciting and not-so-predictable sometimes. He had gone from having no name to having one name, Fung, and then getting two more and there was still a fourth one on the way, but Jermaine always said they didn’t need to share a last name to be family.

He still had two weeks until his flight and he was going to enjoy them. Maybe they should invite Jack Spicer over after his parents leave. It’s been such a long time.

Life was good.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm fully aware of the hiatus but like I had to share this. Also will share several other things, so beware a spam. Sorry.


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